


The Art of Cohesion

by Kei_LS



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers Ninja Storm
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Cam-Speech is not my fav, Canon-Typical Violence, Changing Tenses, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Different ninja practices, Dustin's Superpowers is Hugs, Fake Science, Families of Choice, Gen, Grumpy Hunter vs Cheerful Blake, Hunter regularly caps it, Lichtenberg Scars, Light Angst, Misunderstandings, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Multiple, Poorly Kept Secrets, Required, Shane just wants the trust to flow, Stealth Hazard is a regular side effect of being on a team of ninjas, Suspension Of Disbelief, Swearing, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Tori has a Tolerance Meter, henna tattoos, possible future slash - Freeform, seriously dont think too hard, that did not happen, this should have been a one shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-06 17:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6764221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kei_LS/pseuds/Kei_LS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shane had never really considered himself a leader. The Bradley's had never thought of themselves as being a part of any team that wasn't each other's. Adjusting is hard. Somehow, it's not looking quite so impossible anymore, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Differentials of Theory and Practice

**Author's Note:**

> This story is not beta'ed. So any mistakes are my own. There is a lot of tense switching, so if that bothers you, uh... sorry? But otherwise, please join me in my Ninja Storm abyss. I've fallen in and can't get out. Also, fair warning: This story kind of has a lot of heavy references to a few episodes, but specifically Bopp-a-Roo and Toxipod's Island, as well as the events surrounding the Thunder rangers' introduction.
> 
> I can't make many promises on an update schedule, but I'll try to at least make them bi-weekly until I've muddled through this. Hope you guys enjoy! (Rating is mostly for swearing [pretty much like... entirely Hunter's fault?], and later some themes of violence.)
> 
> Still getting a feel for these characters, hopefully they're not too off the wall as to be unrecognizable. Have fun, readers!

It was the heat wave that started it. The heat wave and a brief lapse in Hunter's ironclad control. Before then, Shane had resigned himself to coexisting with the Thunder rangers in battle situations with the occasional spike of paranoia whenever he didn't see both or Hunter got too close to Tori or Dustin's back, or whenever the team ended up stranded in between the pair of them. He'd, at Sensei's insistence, slowly become used to seeing them during training and hearing Blake's (and, on the extra special rare day, Hunter's) voice.

He hadn't actively cared though. Or, no, that wasn't quite true. He'd cared about them – but he'd been careful to keep his arguments on getting the two to join them limited to terms of battle advantages. The numbers helped, the boost in skill helped, and it was an undeniable fact that Shane slept a little bit better knowing that Hunter and Blake weren't rogue outliers easily susceptible to manipulation anymore.

If something went wrong with the trouble brothers, they'd know. No more guessing or being blindsided by friendly teamwork randomly getting switched out for a brutal, painful strike in the side or back. No more power rangers striking it on their own and being twice as vulnerable for it. Definitely less chance of evil rangers all around. Shane hadn't been faking his enthusiasm or his desire for the pair to join, not even a little bit, but he could admit that there had been some adjustments he hadn't been prepared for.

Hunter treating them with three times the suspicion and half the hostility had been one of those things. Call Shane crazy, but he'd sort of figured that fighting the bad guy of the day on the same side for the whole fight might've earned him more than a few gruff critiques and an afternoon of glaring. How Shane could have made such a grave judgment error he'd never know.

Blake had brought his own complications, in that Shane honestly couldn't tell when he was being sincere and when he was just coasting through their meetups. He was definitely outgoing, and in that sense about twenty million times easier to deal with than Hunter, but there was something about just how much forward he put himself that made Shane uneasy.

(Truthfully, he'd only figured that situation out a little before Bopp-a-Roo. Individual training-bonding sessions, mandated by Sensei, had been hell. He'd wished that was an exaggeration, but he'd gotten more bruises sparring with Hunter than he did getting kicked across a warehouse by any other bad guy Shane had faced. Given how their fights before then had gone, Shane probably shouldn't have been surprised by that but – again, excuse him for assuming that 'teammate' somehow equated to 'friend.'

"Let's not get carried away," Blake had said, blindsiding Shane when he'd decided moving was for people who took pain-free bodies for granted and had grumbled some unsavory things under his breath. "We're more like acquaintances."

"And that doesn't strike you as, oh I don't know, a _problem_?" Shane demanded, trying not to wheeze too audibly. He was in no mood to give either Bradley more ammunition against him today, and even though Hunter had left – possibly to get lectured by Sensei, probably to go home and brood aggressively in the dark corners of his apartment – what one Bradley knew the other was sure to learn quickly. Tori had jokingly called it a hive mind. Dustin had enthusiastically supported the theory. Shane had wasted a few sleepless nights staring uneasily at his morpher until he'd managed to get Cam to thoroughly debunk it.

"Mostly it just feels normal." Blake's smile had been noticeably strained, crouching down somewhere by Shane's shoulder and slowly helping him sit up. Shane couldn't even dredge up irritation at that, dragging a hand down his face.

"Doesn't have to be," he'd sighed. "In fact, it shouldn't be."

"Is that what you're trying to prove, goading Hunter into fighting like this?" Blake had grinned, holding his hands up and catching Shane's wrists when he'd flailed in offense. "Kidding, Shane. Seriously, though, you should consider ice packs." He'd continued, pulling Shane up to his feet.

"He go all out on you, too?" Shane had asked, not expecting an answer. Blake, he'd found, was great at surface-level conversation and deflecting, pulling anyone and everyone he needed to into a discussion to avoid topics that dug a little too deep. Blake hadn't given him an enigmatic smile though, or a cheerfully sarcastic rhetorical question.

"I give as good as I get, Shane," he'd answered. "His fists might have been smaller back then."

"Oh, so it's not just me?"

"It's absolutely just you," Blake had corrected, sizing Shane up with a critical stare. "I don't know if anyone's told you this," he'd continued, in tones that said he knew for a fact no one had told Shane this. "But you're kind of a hard read, and you're definitely annoying."

"Thanks," Shane snorted, wincing a second later at the pressure on his ribs. The pain was already starting to fade, but it would still be a few minutes – and those minutes would not be spent in pleasant pastures. "Also, that's a little rich coming from the guy who hasn't been real since he got here," Shane continued, wincing almost as soon as he'd said it. Blake hadn't seemed offended, though, pausing for a beat before he'd sent Shane another strained smile.

"Did you just call me a poser?"

"You could try to trust me a little more," Shane had sighed, following Blake when the other had started walking.

"So could you," he'd countered. "Facts are, you don't. Which is fine," his hand had lifted, stopping Shane before he could say anything for his defense. Shane had no idea what he would've said, but he did remember Blake looking back at him over his shoulder, a resigned atmosphere overtaking his posture if not his expression.

It was the first time Shane had ever really felt compelled to compare Blake and Hunter and find a similarity. "We don't deserve your trust. We probably never will. If you and Cam are the only ones who never forget that I'm ready to accept that. But let's skip the lecture about being best friends just because we have the same end goal. I'm willing to play the game if you are, but I'm not about to let you trample over us. I like Tori. I like Dustin. Sometimes I even like you. I respect Cam. I respect Sensei Watanabe. You can stop with the threats."

Which Shane had definitely not seen coming. He hadn't issued out any threats. Definitely none that he could remember. It was the most serious he'd seen Blake in a while though, so he knew this had been building for at least some amount of time. He just wasn't sure how, or why, or if there was yet another Shane-clone situation kind of thing, like the Tori clone thing, like the _ranger_ clone thing, and they'd somehow missed it.

He was – he remembered being startled, and angry, and only a little bit because he was being accused of something so serious. Most of him was outraged that once again the Bradley's were being harassed, and no one had noticed, no one had helped, and hadn't that been one of the driving reasons Shane wanted them around?

"Who's threatening you?" he'd demanded, serious and clipped, the mild bruises completely pushed out of his mind as he'd straightened. "When does this happen? Blake I haven't done anything like that. I wouldn't. How long has-?"

"Are you serious?" Blake had frowned, arms crossed and leaning back. "You literally did it five hours ago in Ninja Ops." Shane frowned, drawing up a blank. He'd remembered everyone being there, clasping Blake's arm and slinging his arm over Dustin's shoulders, but there hadn't been any threats. There hadn't even been any doom and gloom glares being thrown around. Blake must have noticed, because his frown had only gotten more severe. "What do you think you're doing when you put your arm over my shoulders?"

"Wait- what?"

"No one else gets in my space like you do."

"Dustin does," Shane argued. It was a fact. Dustin ignored personal space for everyone – his real-life superpower was the fact he could get away with it unscathed.

"Dustin does," Blake had agreed, unmoving. "You're not Dustin."

"So you think I'm sketchy because I, what, touch you?" Shane had asked, trying to wrap his head around the concept. Was it even possible to be that paranoid? Apparently. Cam had never had a problem enforcing physical space, and Hunter wasn't someone that even understood the word casual, but Blake hadn't been like that.

He hadn't even realized it bothered the younger ranger. He certainly hadn't thought it could be so horribly mistaken for a threat. Did he think Shane was threatening Tori and Dustin every time he touched them, too? But no, there had to be lines, because he could differentiate from Dustin touching him in the same way. So was it really just Shane? Why? "Dude where have you been living?"

"Lothor's ship," Blake had answered simply, cutting through and leaving Shane frozen and chilled. And, yeah, he could see how that would not be a great place for – but that didn't make up the entirety of their lives. "And before that, a ninja academy."

And – yeah, Dustin was definitely the ninja exception, not the rule, in a place where every bit of movement and space was observed and controlled and contained. Casual touching wasn't forbidden or anything like that, but contact outside of sparring was scrutinized by everyone within eyesight, and there was a reason that most of Shane's more comforting gestures toward Tori and Dustin had been done safely outside of the academy's walls.

"I didn't mean to threaten you," Shane had started, emotions mixing up in a mess that demanded he apologize now and figure out the implications later. "I never would've, that's not how I," he tried, fingers twitching, and then he'd had to reel himself back before he made it worse, made the same mistake again. "I'm sorry. I didn't even think- that's not what,"

"I'm getting that," Blake had interrupted, the hard stance easing back, lessening in the face of Shane's special brand of awkward apology. He looked more confused, definitely more open, and a little bit rueful when he'd rubbed the back of his neck. "You don't have to apologize. I guess it does seem… kind of weird."

"I think I do," Shane had said, knowing it was the truth. "I owe you that apology. You and Hunter." The right thing to say, even when Blake had looked surprised and then relaxed, almost smiling at him.)

He'd had plans to do just that. Reality, however, made that a little more difficult. In that Hunter was allergic to heart to hearts and his reaction favored the aggressively defensive.

But then Bopp-a-Roo had happened. He'd finally kind of sort of gotten somewhere with Hunter, awkward and quiet but almost painfully sincere when he'd explained that it had always been just him and Blake; Hunter had almost accepted it, accepted Shane when he'd said that wasn't true anymore. The team was there for them. They watched each other's backs.

Shane had worked hard for that moment darn it. He'd worked hard to make sure his words didn't end up being another lie. It had even paid off, Blake settling and goading Hunter into interactions in his own special way. Hunter making the effort to meet Shane half-way. The setbacks all stemmed from competition, conflict, but even that wasn't… disastrous. Unpleasant, sure, when they both separated and chilled out and took the time to reflect on it (or Shane did, he couldn't confirm what Hunter did, but he doubted it was all that effective considering progress continued to not happen) but they didn't have complete breakdowns in operation anymore when they fought either.

Fitting the two of them into his daily routine hadn't been any kind of hardship after that. Any check up on Tori was almost guaranteed to become a check up on Blake, and if that failed he could check up on Dustin, or – crazy days – sometimes he could find the navy ranger himself, quiet but constant and no longer watching Shane every time he entered a room. Hunter was practically a guaranteed meet-up. Sensei had backed off a bit when they started to consistently function well in fights together, but Shane knew they'd be back to square one if he let Hunter wallow off on his own again.

So he'd, after a little bit of throwing Sensei's name around (since using Cam's name had backfired so spectacularly he'd had to fess up and admit that _maybe_ Hunter was actually helping him improve, in some things, a little bit), convinced Hunter to keep up the one on one sparring. He's not entirely sure how or when that also became creating training rosters with the crimson ranger – and, when Cam had finally come to investigate the cause of all the yelling – the Samurai ranger, but even that had ultimately worked out well.

But even then he'd been mostly resigned to the two Bradley's, plus Cam don't even _think_ that he'd forgotten, being on the outskirts and only dragged to the center when Tori was flirting with Blake or Dustin was pestering Cam or Shane and Hunter argued and never getting closer, instead gritting his teeth whenever Blake visibly held himself back or Hunter gave them all a look of wary disdain. (Cam at least was a little easier, tried a little more, connected well with Dustin and respected Tori, was establishing points of contact and honestly _you could take a few hints, Hunter._ )

And then Blue Bay Harbor had been attacked by a killer heat wave that sent even Lothor's monsters into hiding. And Dustin, as was his way, had noticed something innocuous that was actually kind of a big deal. And the team had – come together. In their way.

~'~,~'~

"Do you think they're immune to heat stroke?" Dustin asks, head tilted to the side and attention firmly elsewhere. Shane swallows the rest of the water from his water bottle hard and has to take a slow, steadying breath before he ends up coughing. There are a lot of good things that have come from the addition of the Bradley's and Cam's new ranger status. Dustin's newfound stealth is one of them, it's just unfortunate that Shane's awareness and ability to sense others hasn't improved at quite the same rate. "They look miserable," Dustin continues, oblivious to the choking hazard he'd presented.

"Who looks miserable?" Shane asks, following Dustin's determined stare. He's not entirely surprised to find Dustin staring at Blake and Tori, Hunter carting boxes and making a winding path around them instead of cutting between them. Tori doesn't look miserable, smiling and chatting away happily about something, Bake at least appearing attentive to what she's saying even if he doesn't seem to be contributing to the conversation much. Hunter also doesn't look miserable, well, any more than he usually does. Determined frown, attention snapping to the doors any time they open, focusing on Kelly with about a fraction of effort and mechanically moving from Point A to Point B to Point A as directed.

"I think that's just Hunter's thinking face," Shane jokes.

"Dude, it's like a hundred degrees today," Dustin gripes, making a point to wipe his hand over his head and slump. "I feel like I'm dying and I'm wearing normal clothes. They're wearing layers. I'm getting overheated just looking at them."

This was actually true. Today was record-breaking hot, and as a result everything had slowed down. Shane doubted anyone would be at the tracks today. He knew no one was at the skate park – hot asphalt and bailing would not a fun time make. The beach would probably be packed for a few hours, but mostly people were staying indoors. Shane hadn't dared anything more than loose shorts and a tank top, Tori and Dustin had opted for the same. Dustin was a little more grudging about it, but they'd all been around Kelly long enough to know better than test her No Shirt, No Service policy.

By contrast, Hunter and Blake wore long sleeves and jeans and as Dustin had said, layers. Hunter, as was his habit, was wearing a short sleeved shirt on top of a thicker, long-sleeved one, covered from shoulders to wrists to ankles in fabric. Blake was wearing a blue jean jacket, open, but the sleeves weren't rolled up at all.

"The AC is on," Shane points out. Dustin rolls his eyes.

"Okay, so it's like ninety-nine degrees inside. It's still hot. You've been here an hour and you're still chugging water."

"I also walked here," Shane argues.

"And they've been working all day. Or, well, Hunter's been working all day and Blake's been talking?"

"It's called customer service," Blake calls out, grinning and side-stepping a swipe from his aggravated brother.

"Which would be great if Tori were actually buying something," Hunter snaps.

"Sorry Hunter," Tori smiles, sheepish but still amused. Storm Chargers was empty, if there were actual customers Kelly would have steered Blake away long before now.

"What's up?" Blake asks, cheerfully perking up. His smile is downright mischievous when he asks, "You need any help?"

"Do I need," Hunter repeats slowly, crossing his arms. "Any help? With what? All the inventory of the stuff I already moved?"

"Sure," Blake chirps. It's downright obnoxious. "I can open them up!" Hunter's glare is the kind of deadly Shane has come to associate with the moment right before Hunter kicks him in the face during training. "You look terrible, you should take a seat."

"I've been working!" Hunter scoffs. "But you know what? I will do that. The rest of the shift? All yours, bro."

"But it's only been two hours."

"Well then," Hunter drawls, apathetic to Blake's whining as he makes a beeline to a chair, snagging a bottle of water as he goes. "It's a good thing I did all the heavy lifting." Blake doesn't appear to mind as much as he sounds, griping as he heads over to the boxes even when Kelly and Tori both tell him to stop complaining. Apparently, the formula for chilled out happy Blake is two-ish hours of uninterrupted chat-time plus their resident blue ranger. Who knew?

"Hunter you know there's nothing in the policy against you wearing short sleeves, right?" Kelly asks. Hunter looks up wide-eyed from his second water bottle, the first already crushed and tossed into a bin.

"What?"

"It's hot," Kelly sums up, cutting to the point with raised eyebrows and concern plain as day. "You can take one of those off. How are you not dying in this heat?"

"Oh, I'm fine." He answers, draining the rest of the second bottle and eyeing a third. Totally fine behavior, Shane thinks, acting like a dehydrated turtle. Hunter must seem to realize it too because he visibly refrains from grabbing it. Shane has to physically stop himself form grabbing it and throwing it at the blond. Tori has no such restraints, swiping it up and shoving it into his face.

"You're sweating," she says, hand on her hip. "I didn't know you were body shy," Tori teases.

"I'm not-" Hunter swipes the bottle, twisting it open roughly and rolling his eyes. "I'm not _body shy,_ what the hell."

"Well I can't think of any other reason you'd wear all that stuff," Tori counters.

"I can think of plenty," Hunter grumbles.

"Yeah? Name one," Tori challenges. Hunter tenses, and before Shane can resign himself to a headache and stressful afternoon at Ninja Ops Dustin lurches forward, eyes wide with a hint of mania as he presses both hands onto Hunter's shoulders.

"You're sick!"

"Okay one," Hunter starts, leaning back and gripping Dustin's arms, rocking him back slowly. "Personal space, we've talked about this man, come on. And two, I'm not sick."

"Your personal space is like, the entirety of Storm Chargers dude, _we've_ talked about this. That's just not realistic. And how can you not be sick? You're like, the image of sickness."

"Thanks?" Hunter grimaces, Blake huffing a laugh as he hovers over a box. Hunter zeroes in on it, voice considerably sharper, " _Thanks."_   Blake shoots him a thumbs-up without looking.

"Is that why you've been trying to keep your space bubble so huge?" Dustin asks, abruptly concerned as he reverses Hunter's grip on his wrists to squeeze his arms. "You've been getting sick and didn't want anyone else to catch it? Dude you have to tell us this stuff we can help. We can _so_ help."

"That'd be great," Hunter says with more patience than Shane would've given him credit for. "Except I'm not sick."

"But the space bubble!"

"Is a perfectly reasonable amount of-"

"And the clothes!" Dustin cries, rallying in this newfound discovery. And about now, if Shane were the kind of leader the Bradley's wanted instead of the leader they actually had, he'd step in to distract Dustin and defuse the situation. Instead, he leans back on his heels and tries to temper his grin into something that won't get him killed in a fit of pique later.

It's remarkably easy after weeks of tempering the initial friction between Cam and Dustin. He should send the Samurai ranger a fruit basket or something. Maybe computer magazines instead. Those wouldn't spoil, at least, though anything he could get his hands on might be outdated for the tech genius.

Hm.

"That is not how the imaginary sickness that I don't have works. Mostly because I don't have it!" Hunter hisses, temper fraying under the onslaught that is Dustin's concern and the rest of Storm Charger's apathy. Surprisingly, Hunter then groans and turns to Shane. The slightly manic, mostly desperate look on his face is almost immediately replaced with a glower when he catches Shane's expression. Shane smothers his urge to laugh and holds his hands up instead.

"Dustin I don't think Hunter's sick," he relents, cutting into the conversation that had progressed mostly without him. He shares a look with Tori and that's about it for her, slinging an arm over Dustin's shoulders in camaraderie and laughing brightly even as she expertly disentangles his grip from Hunter. "He's wearing about as much as Blake is, and Blake's space bubble isn't nearly as monstrous."

"Dustin, guys," Blake interrupts. "We're fine. Seriously."

"So, you can take off your mystery jacket?" Tori asks. Blake rolls his eyes, shakes his arms and rolls his shoulders back, the jacket falling off of him and – Shane watches a little incredulously as Blake's sleeves fall down to his wrists.

"Ta-da," Blake delivers blandly. Dustin makes a dissatisfied noise and Hunter throws the third empty bottle with a little more force than he needs to.

"Is there some dress code we missed the memo on?" He demands. "No? Then drop it. I can wear what I want, and so can Blake."

 _And that_ , Shane thinks with a repressed eye roll and a shared look with Tori, _is the end of that._

~'~,~'~

The heat wave goes on, and even in the sanctity of Ninja Ops Cam is dressed down. It was cooler down in Ops than it was above ground, but not by much, something about a machine getting stressed and the circular air conditioning shutting down. Cam gave in after ten minutes, gets a fan blowing for Sensei, and the Thunder brothers continue on with their clothing choices from hell.

It stopped being funny and wandered into annoying territory around the second training session they had, when they opted out of street clothes for their uniforms. The material was practical, and it actually was lighter than it looked – at least enough it didn't feel like cardboard while it was on, but it was black and still fairly dense as a pseudo-armor and still absorbed heat like crazy.

Neither of them seemed to show any hint of minding, and they all went through katas and the basics of their elemental training – to center themselves, Cam had said, doing exactly none of those things with them. Shane would've had choice words about that but he was too busy trying to keep what little moisture he had after an hour of light sparring during the heatwave of death inside of his body.

Focusing through hazy thoughts and burning limbs and sludge-like, stale air to force a breeze had topped his list of most excruciating training session to date. And that included every 'friendly bout' he'd had with Hunter – before and after joining the team. That said, the too-hot breeze that danced over his face and shoulders was also the most rewarding thing that had ever happened to him following training – so. Tori would call that balancing out. Shane's pretty sure he's just skirting by.

He's about to make it stronger, really revel in making the still air move before Hunter snaps him out of it with a sharp hiss. Shane opens his eyes just in time to see an arc of red lift from the guy's shoulder, the rest of him flinching away before it dies down and he has his face in his hands, growling lowly in frustration.

"Hey!" Dustin yelps. Shane's attention snaps from Hunter to Dustin, motion toward him aborted halfway through to take in the image of Blake half-twisted into Dustin and Dustin blinking a little confused up at him.

"Sorry- sorry," Blake says, looking sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck, managing to actually look concerned at Dustin who had half twisted to the side and half-sprawled out like he'd toppled over. Or been pushed. "I wasn't thinking. Are you okay?"

" _You_ weren't thinking?" Shane asks before he can stop himself. Blake looks – not great. The tired look he shoots Shane isn't even the start of it, he's sweating, his posture is curved instead of the rigid form that's almost as constant and perfect as the kind he expects to see from Cam. He looks like he's been running three marathons by himself without stopping. After a battle.

"I believe that is enough for today," Sensei orders evenly. Relief washes through them, but Blake turns sharply to Hunter, gripping his shoulder and pulling him up. They have just enough patience to sketch a bow before they're suddenly gone without so much as a 'see you later.'

"That's not a good thing is it?" Dustin asks from the ground, blinking a little dazedly. Shane sighs and helps him to his feet.

"What isn't?" Cam asks, attention drawn to the pair.

"Blake and Hunter," Tori answers for them, frowning thoughtfully. "They've been… weird, lately."

"I suppose this has something to do with their clothing?" Cam asks distractedly, already heading back toward Ninja Ops. He stops when he realizes they aren't following him, shooting the trio an irritated look. "What?"

"You knew?" Dustin asks.

"Did I know that Blake and Hunter were endangering themselves by wearing ill-advised clothing in a heat wave? Clothing I can see with my eyes?" Cam asks slowly.

"Cam, man, it is way too hot for your special brand of love," Shane groans, already walking.

"Yes, I noticed that they were the only ones wearing what they were. And yes," Cam continues, sparing a look toward Tori, "It is dangerous. They have been keeping hydrated, though, and they did seem to know when to call it quits."

"I had hoped to speak with them," Sensei continues, perched on Cam's shoulder. "But given the events that just occurred I deemed it best to let them collect themselves first."

"You mean Blake?" Dustin asks wryly, rubbing his shoulder a little. Shane spares him a look, concerned, but Dustin just looks worried. And distracted, dragging his feet and pouting up at the sky.

"In part," Sensei agrees.

"So he actually did mess me up on purpose?" Dustin's eyes drag down from his determined stare at the cloudless sky, brows knitting as he looks at Sensei. Small ears twitch, the guinea pig's head tilting a bit thoughtfully.

"It is one of the things I had wished to speak with them about." The conversation continues around him, but Shane tunes it out, mind churning sluggishly through the information before he resolves to take Sensei's approach and worry about it later.

The fact is they've hit a divide.

He'd told Hunter that it wasn't just him and Blake anymore, that they were all working with them and that they had each other's backs. He'd meant it. He still means it. He just hadn't thought about it when he'd said it. There were differences that had to be settled, divides that had to be merged, and he was going to have to figure out how to do that. Root out the problem without shattering trust or pushing too hard.

This wasn't a pride issue though. Shane didn't even think it was an upbringing issue either. The Bradley's hadn't become more reserved or withdrawn. Blake still cheerfully goaded Dustin and Hunter and talked with Tori, listened to Cam. Hunter still watched Blake and Dustin, traded barbs with Cam and Shane. They were just… making themselves miserable while they did it.

And it didn't make sense. They weren't sick. They weren't falling behind. It wasn't a practical way to push themselves.

"Shane," Tori's voice pulls him out of his thoughts, hand on his shoulder and shaking a little. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're not going to be smelling any better standing in the middle of the hall."

"Oh, right, because you smell so great," Shane huffs back.

"Guys," Dustin interrupts, solemn-eyed as he turns to walk backwards. "I hate to have to tell you, but you both reek." Tori makes an incredulous sound and Shane arches an eyebrow. "Seriously," Dustin grins. "You guys should be in another room."

"You should all be in another building," Cam tacks on. "Please."

"You're no rose yourself, Cam," Shane grumbles. Dustin slings his arm on Cam's shoulder, leaning into him.

"He's right," Dustin agrees. "Man have you ever looked so not-together?"

"Well, I vote for showers," Tori says succinctly.

"No, and here I was thinking I'd just shove you all into a pool," Cam snorts. His sarcasm backfires almost immediately judging from the way Dustin perks up, bouncing closer. Shane watches Cam adjust to the movements easily, mostly amused that the guy had become so used to Dustin's constant outpour of energy he didn't even have to look as he walked and shifted his arm so that neither lost their balance or got stepped on while they moved.

"We have a pool? Why didn't we go swimming as our training?"

"What would that have accomplished?" Tori asks. Her smile is tame, but Shane can see the glint in her eyes – Cam's probably lucky she doesn't carry a camera with her everywhere. "I'm the only one with a water affinity."

"Body conditioning?" Shane asks, briefly stalled by the memory of brick-breaking. That hadn't really been body conditioning, but it wasn't impossible to apply. Plus, if this heat wave continued Shane was all for using pools instead of stale air. Seriously. All for it.

"That's ridiculous," Cam starts, only to be interrupted by Sensei's thoughtful tones.

"The idea has some merit," he counters. "If Shane and Tori were to combine their efforts against the rest of the team, it may make for an interesting exercise."

"…Whirlpools?" Cam catches on first. Shane feels a grin forming on his face.

"We'd have to practice," Tori's grin matches his, Shane's sure.

"I'm good with that."

"Can I make earthquakes?" Dustin asks, bouncing to face them.

"Uhm," Tori starts, sending Shane a pointed look.

"Sorry, Dustin," Shane starts bracing himself for the fall of Dustin's expression. "I'm not sure earthquakes in an underground base is that good an idea." And yep, there it is. I'd rather kick a puppy, he thinks grimly as Dustin rubs the back of his head, looks down with a nod.

"Yeah, that makes sense."

"Wait," Cam starts, eyebrows lifted. "You guys don't actually think I have a pool down here do you?"

"You mean you don't?" Dustin demands, and thank you Cam, Shane watches that sad expression notch even lower on the happy scale as he turns to Cam. He almost looks betrayed. Cam stills – basically a flinch in Cam-speak.

"What purpose would that serve?"

"Dude! Swimming!" Dustin explains, waving his arms around a little. His pout is disappearing, at a pace that's almost alarming because it can only mean he's gearing up to rally behind an idea. Cam must also realize it, because his arms immediately cross and he tries on his Bert-face. Brows furrowed, mouth frowning, very stern.

It's become a lot less effective ever since Hunter had coined the term – even though Shane is eighty percent sure that Blake is the one who actually said it first. Hunter was the one reckless enough to verbally compare Cam to a Muppet to his face. Unfortunately for Cam, Dustin had fallen in love with the concept, and in response to the stern look Dustin brightens and almost claps.

"No," Cam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and grumbling something probably not kind under his breath. "No one is building a pool in Ninja Ops. This isn't negotiable."

"You brought it up," Dustin says reasonably. "You must want one."

"That's not-"

"There are natural bodies of water that are not the ocean that can be used for Shane and Tori to practice. Until they have the control for it, that kind of exercise will not be allowed," Sensei orders reasonably.

"Yes, Sensei," Dustin sighs.

"Thank you," Cam breathes.

"But you should totally go swimming with us," Dustin adds on. Shane claps a hand down on Cam's shoulder before he can argue, grinning wide and pinning Cam with a look in the process while Tori laughs and agrees. Sensei's silence more or less solidifies the declaration. Cam, proving that sometimes even he knows when to cut his losses, sighs and nods.

"Fine. As long as there's no more talk of swimming pools here."

"Yes!" Dustin cheers. Shane's just pleased the other isn't pouting at him anymore. Seriously.

~'~,~'~

"We are not hiding this one," Blake tells him, fingers under Hunter's chin and tilting his head back.

"No, really? I was thinking we could throw on a little powder, smooth on a bit of make-up," Hunter snaps.

"Slap you with a cactus? Say you fell on a weed?" Blake asks dryly, turning his head to the side.

"All the plants are dead," Hunter grumbles.

"You know, we probably would've had a better chance if you hadn't bit Dustin's head off at Storm Chargers."

"And if you hadn't pushed him over like a five year old," Hunter huffs. Blake rolls his eyes.

"I wasn't thinking."

"Obviously."

"I watched the direction of that charge. It went straight to the ground."

"And then right back into my face," Hunter cut in, gritting his teeth when his cheek was poked at.

"Yeah, well," Blake sighs. _Better him than Dustin_ , Hunter knows. He's not actually complaining about the backlash of lightning, despite the fallout that he now had to deal with because of said problem. There was zero way he was going to get away with wearing a hoodie though, and even if he tried that would definitely be the last straw for Shane.

 _Oh shit, Shane_ , he thinks, batting Blake's hands away. "Blake, there is no way we can keep this secret." Blake paused, studying him for a long moment before looking away. "How far along are you?" Hunter asks, lightly tugging at a sleeve. Blake sighs, taking off the jacket and frowning at the far wall, Hunter reaching up slowly to his shoulders. "It doesn't look that bad."

"Says the guy with a face like a cheese grater," Blake mutters mutinously.

"I am trying to be supportive."

"It is so not my fault that you were born ugly," Blake sniffs. Hunter scoffs, jabbing a finger into his shoulder. "They'll be gone in like another day and a half."

"Secret is gonna be out by tomorrow, Blake."

"You could… call in?" Blake asks, wincing pre-emptively. "I don't want them making a big deal out of nothing."

"You literally just compared my face to a cheese grater. Somehow, I don't think they're just going to let this slide."

"You've always looked that bad," Blake groans, collapsing forward onto the bed next to him. "Kelly can't know," he continues after a long pause of ignoring Hunter's judgmental staring and then irritating poking and then less-kind shoving until he rolls onto his back so Hunter can lie down next to him.

"She can't. For that, I will call in. But that means in the meantime you are going to have to field Dustin and I am going to have to deal with Shane. They need to know."

"When you say 'need' to know," he starts, sighing explosively when Hunter flicks his arm. "I just… I didn't think it would be an issue." Hunter doesn't say anything to that. He knew where Blake was coming from. Their reasons to not join with the wind ninjas was retroactively growing. None of them were good enough reasons to suddenly stop helping protect the world and save millions of people from Lothor, but it was – a background tally for him to pull out on rainy days when he was feeling especially bitter toward Shane or Cam or any of the other multitude of things he had to be resentful about when thinking of the perfect trio and they're happy-happy outlook.

That might be a smidge uncharitable, or just a narrative of how Hunter had coped with his colorful life experiences up to this point, but the only one here to judge him was Blake who was arguably more exasperated and confused by them than Hunter was on any given day. So. Hunter was relatively safe here.

It's not like he's begrudging Blake his reasons for trying to keep the newfound side effect of their powers under wraps. Hunter would probably want to do the same if he was crushing on any of the Ninja Storm morons. Thankfully, because he was still sane while his little brother had clearly jumped off the deep end to swim happy laps around Tori and cut out sickeningly cute hearts in his spare time to offer up to her, Hunter was under no such illusions. But he understood it.

Or. Well. He understood that not having his crush (yes, _crush,_ because Blake was a prepubescent girl and it was in turns annoying and hilarious) stress and worry about something they couldn't help or stop or fix was a much better option than. You know. Having them worry about the things they couldn't help or stop or fix.

So, for the sake of Blake and Blake's emotions – which had no bearing on anything remotely related to Hunter or Hunter's relationship with the team, just to be clear – he'd gone along with all of this. And now that was no longer an option. And that sucked. He could refrain his knowledgeable commentary for Blake's sake.

Just this once.

Besides, he wasn't too fond of having to deal with tomorrow either.

If it was anything like Blake's reports of the aftermath from his confrontation about the bro-clasps and leaning-into-personal-space thing, Hunter was in for a couple of days of awkward physical hovering and strange guilty looks before a twice as awkward heart-to-heart. And then there will be more invasions of personal space anyway, because Blake is a soft-hearted fool.

Hunter has no plans of letting things progress in this manner. He will give the boy-scout two guilty looks and exactly five seconds of hovering, and then he will put the hawk into the ground. There is only one person not missing, kidnapped, or dead that has that right and he doesn't even abuse the privilege.

Shane would just have to deal.


	2. Setting the Groundwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A major distinction between the Wind and Thunder academies is discussed. Also, Shane briefly loses his cool. Considering the circumstances, he's pretty sure he earned a pass.

"Alright," Shane says immediately after a ten-second beat of tense silence. "I'm officially concerned. Either take that hood off, or I'll do it for you, but I am five seconds away from assuming you're a really weird clone." It only seemed fair to warn the guy. If he was a clone, he was both A) kind of bad at pretending to be Hunter, and B) innocent of everything that wasn't impersonating Hunter.

Or at least, Shane was pretty sure he hadn't done anything. Except maybe to Blake, who was probably also a clone, since he seemed to be determined to act just as strange?

Shane didn't know. What he _did_ know was that this was no longer funny. And it wasn't even irritating anymore. Hunter being quiet wasn't unusual. Hunter looking dark and generally upset with the world and everything in it wasn't unusual either. Hunter sitting in the corner of a practice room with an honest-to-God hoodie with the hood up in what was still unseasonable heat – even in the cooler underground world of Ninja Ops – was.

In light of that, being scoffed at was rather reassuring.

"It's been nearly a week and _now_ you're thinking clone?"

"I was holding out on Lothor coming up with something new," Shane admits, relaxing a little more at the biting statement. He should probably find aggressive teammates more alarming. But, well. He's pretty sure Hunter's had a bad week and he's trying to be understanding, here. The bundle sitting meditatively against the far wall shifts and Hunter scoffs again.

"Like an alternate dimension?"

"Like an unnatural heat wave," Shane answered. Hunter's head tilts a bit. _Points for interest_ , Shane thinks, keeping his thoughts firmly to himself.

"Is it?"

"Cam assures me it's not," Shane admits. Shane himself was still on the fence about it. He didn't doubt Cam or his conclusions that it was entirely natural, he just – look. Shane would punch a lot of things if it meant the heat died down even a little, okay? _A lot._

"Of course he did," Hunter mutters. It sounded lackluster though. No points for effort. Also, he still hadn't taken that damn hoodie off.

"We're not fighting with that thing on your head," Shane says, as much a prompt as it is a reminder to get them back on track. Hunter… he doesn't hesitate but Shane can practically see the way his movements become more measured, more controlled – precise, is the word. Careful. Shane stills entirely on a conditioned response, uneasy in the face of _Hunter's_ caution.

"How much do you know about the Thunder Academy?" Hunter asks.

 _Breathe,_ Shane thinks and then, _well that's not ominous at all_. Their missing schools weren't something that they talked about – for a couple of reasons that ranged from the obvious _'they're gone'_ to the less acknowledged _'Sensei's passion and students and **life** are held hostage by a madman.'_ And everything from before Lothor was so far out of Shane's space of awareness it may as well have been in, _hah,_ another dimension.

"Not much," Shane answers when he isn't trying to swallow his tongue. He hopes that he didn't exceed whatever time limit he had for this conversation – Bradley mood swings were still an unfavorable mystery, and this was about as touchy a topic as Shane would ever breach. He still wasn't sure if it was a good thing that Hunter was bringing it up now or not.

"The minimum," he continued when Hunter made a vague motion. "Basic stuff – principles, that it's a sister academy to the Wind school, you two came from it. Most of what I know came from Sensei when we were fighting you guys. Um," he scratches the back of his head when Hunter doesn't interrupt him, frowning a little as he tries to figure out how this is relevant. "You guys manipulate thunder differently than we do our elements. You couldn't use the abilities or the ranger form if you weren't pure?"

"Sensei Watanabe would say something like that," Hunter mutters. Shane shrugs a little in response. Hunter and Blake had shown Sensei nothing but respect ever since the whole kidnapping mess had been sorted out. That had been one of the easier adjustments they'd made. Regardless of anything else, they were at least warming up quickly to _him_. Cam's quiet concerns had turned out to be unfounded in that regard, even if they had kept a close eye on the pair with their guinea pig sensei for a couple of days.

Incidentally, their apology to Sensei had been the most respectful and reserved Shane had ever seen them. It was kind of a nice touch, that they hadn't lumped in their apologies to the team in the same category – had extended separate ones to Cam and Sensei both instead of leaving it an implication.

"He meant it," Shane stresses quietly. He's not sure if it's the right move, but this feels kind of important. The last time he'd heard Hunter talk like this had been when Shane and Hunter had been trying to sort out a lot of their alpha-dog bravado. (Which was _not_ the term Cam had used, but was the one Tori had approved of. So.)

Besides Shane… wanted them to understand that.

Hunter just sighs though, and makes a dismissive motion with his hand. "I'm sure he did. Except that's not entirely accurate. The – the energy thing, not the other stuff, calm down," Hunter gripes, sounding exasperated and pointing accusingly at Shane. Shane huffs, crosses his arms and eyes him back but obediently settles, going so far as to take a few steps forward and sit down when he thought the other was getting tense.

He's gotten a lot better at interpreting subtle body language. Possibly, he paid a little too much attention to it, but he'd never realized how much he took _words_ for granted until he'd been regularly exposed to people that weren't accustomed to using them.

"This would be a lot easier on my nerves if you'd put down the hood on that stupid hoodie," Shane finally admits. He's not stupid. He's sure they're related to whatever Hunter is getting at. He can recognize a preemptive strike when he sees one. "Are you about to tell me you really are immune to heat stroke?"

"It really isn't any of your business," Hunter answers, drawing a leg up slowly to his chest. He reaches up to take down the hoodie, but he's got most of his face pressed up against his knee so actually seeing him isn't really any easier. Boy needs a haircut. Seriously.

"Alright, maybe it isn't. But it can't be all that healthy either, right? It's not like this is just some quirk for you guys."

"If you'd shut up for two minutes I'd tell you," Hunter mutters. Shane lifts his eyebrows but holds his peace, letting the silence stretch on between them.

It ambles into strained territory around half a minute.

It's long since fallen into awkward territory around a minute and a half.

Hunter huffs a laugh at two minutes and one second.

Like Shane thought, it doesn't actually get them anywhere.

"I am about eight seconds away from tackling you," Shane warns. Mostly because it's the truth and he doesn't want to get punched in the face. He's found warning the other of what he plans is a really good way to actually surprise him.

Something about not believing in Shane's willingness to follow through.

"I'm sitting against a wall," Hunter points out, head lifting a little.

"Then I hope getting the concussion is worth acting like a brat," Shane says, moving slowly into a crouch.

" _Excuse_ -" Hunter starts, head snapping up and Shane actually does lurch forward. Stumbles from the blinding shot of adrenaline, fear mostly drowned out by a very liberal wave of anger.

"What the hell-" had he missed? Happened? Who had- why was-? Shane couldn't even think, hissing a sharp breath with his hands firm on Hunter's wrist, ignoring every single warning signal that was pouring off of Hunter in waves because he had to see- he had to- "Cyber Cam!" He snaps, hard and unforgiving because _what the hell_ \- "Turn the lights up."

"It's not that- Shane- _Shane_!" Hunter snaps back, grip on his arms, shaking him but Shane can't think, can't see beyond- _God, it looks worse in the light_. The webbing of scars decorates Hunter's cheek, branching out up toward his eye and thicker down his neck, disappearing under the hoodie. Deep and angry and red and he tugs at the cloth without thinking.

"Take this off," he demands, eyes tracing over and over again what he can see, imagining what he can't. How bad was it? How far down did it _go_? How much had Hunter _hurt_?

"Would you just-"

" _Now,_ " Shane snaps, and he knows. He knows this is the absolute worst way to handle this, to handle any of them, but he can't – they're _bad_. He can barely register that Hunter doesn't sound like he's in pain – he should be in pain, shouldn't he? From all of the marks, dangerously close, and –

\- his head snaps to the side, hard and fast, and his arm shifts to stop himself from face planting into the floor about a second before pain blooms through his cheek.

"Are. You done?" Hunter asks evenly, considerably calmer than Shane felt. It's a nice addition to the sudden blank his thoughts have taken, though, so he takes a steadying breath and slowly sits up again, leaning back and bringing a hand to his cheek slowly, grimacing at the ache to his jaw where Hunter had punched him. He lifts his eyes slowly, trying to maintain the calm that Hunter seems to have – and how is that fair? – and feels his heart kick up a notch in his chest, blood rushing when he sees Hunter's face again.

"Shane." Hunter's voice is sharp, demanding and even, fingers curling deliberately into a fist clear in Shane's eye sight. "I will punch you. Again. Do not start." It takes another minute, but Hunter's eyes are calm, if a bit impatient. He's irritated, but the lack of movement, the lack of pain, the deep breaths that Shane realizes after a bit he's started to copy – that all helps. Shane feels himself shudder, panic slowly taking a firm backseat, and only then realizes just how much colder it had gotten in the room.

His fault. He knows it is. That's what happens when Shane loses control these days, the air gets colder, frigid or swirling when he loses his calm. He hasn't done that in a while. Not since the Bradley's first joined with them, at least. It still takes a few deeper breaths before he's back in sync with himself, clumsily relaxing into the frigid air, easing the temperature of the room up. Hunter gives him the time, which is great because it takes Shane a lot longer than it should have.

Becoming a Power Ranger had instilled a certain level of awareness and ability Shane was pretty sure he'd never actually have reached entirely on his own. This was great for, say, fighting off overpowered space aliens and dark ninja techniques and the occasional horde of mindless minions. It was less great for his control. When the amount of power he could access suddenly outweighed the amount he could reliably handle at his fingertips, or rather the amount he had been trained to, situations like these cropped up.

Element on the run. Half of his training was struggling to keep up with the power boosts he gained, and learning what that meant for him overall, and applying it to his actual ninja training instead of just relying on instinct to get him through a fight. It was a delicate balance to strike, when his ability to do so also had to contend with his natural link to air and both things were connected to his emotions.

"You can put your fist down now," Shane says, when his tenuous hold feels a little more stable. Hunter does so gradually, leaning back against the wall again, looking more at ease and a little… was he smug? What exactly did _Hunter_ have to be smug about?

"Feel better?"

"No," Shane answers honestly, taking another breath. "Who-?"

"I did," Hunter answers. "When I said Sensei Watanabe was wrong about our energy, I was talking about where it came from. The Power of Thunder is dangerous for more practical reasons than Earth or Air or Water. It's destructive at its core, a release of built up energy searching out the path of least resistance to a target. When you first arrived at the Wind Academy, what was the first thing you were told to try and do?"

"Meditate," Cam answers from the doorway, sudden and loud enough to make Shane jolt, though Hunter's eyes only flicker up toward him. Not surprised. How typical. Cam inclines his head toward Shane, _gee, hi to you too buddy_ , but most of his attention returns to Hunter, entering the room steadily. Hunter doesn't stop him, and so Shane lets Cam pick up the thread, shifting a bit to face the pair of them instead of just Hunter when Cam kneels next to him.

Cam doesn't look panicked or surprised at Hunter's sudden scars, either. "Between physical conditioning and mental exercises, the introduction is designed to help individuals cultivate and find the underdeveloped natural affinity they have with their respective elements. Elementary-level drop outs either don't have enough potential to access their affinity ever or have such underdeveloped cores anything they could access would become impossible to control."

"Right," Hunter agrees. "That's not how it's done at the Thunder Academy. I'm not going to get into specifics," he says, _because it's not relevant_ goes unsaid, or possibly, _because I can't_. "But novices at the Thunder Academy focus entirely on body conditioning and the theorem and standard movements for control."

"Isn't that a little backwards?" Shane asks, a little glad to see Cam frowning as well. "Why bother to learn that stuff if you don't even know you can access anything. That's like…" he waves his hand a little, trying to come up with a proper analogy. "Taking the time to build a dam without any water in sight, or any plans to fill it. Or," he continues, crossing his arms when Hunter's eyebrow starts to rise, trying to cut off the sarcastic comment he knows is coming. "Buying a cement truck and having absolutely no contacts or knowledge of how to get liquid cement."

Sure you might be able to figure it out, and you'd have a place to put it short-term, but there was still the high chance you'd end up just having a truck sitting large and cumbersome out front and nothing to put in it.

"That depends entirely on what you're accessing," Hunter answers, apparently deciding to save mocking Shane for another day. "What's the worst thing that happened when you tapped into the Power of Air?" he asks. "What was your worst case scenario?"

"I fell," Shane admits, thinking back only a little ruefully. There were worse things to admit to. "It was – I could suddenly feel everything, right? Air is everywhere. And then I was everywhere, and it was so overwhelming I panicked. And the gust from that backlash actually blew me over." It was kind of embarrassing, but that was also what had kept him in the academy to progress from elementary to novice so he couldn't complain too much. Most people barely got a breeze, the flicker of a flame or the push of some papers, a pen or pencil. He'd been so sure of himself back then, too, even though he'd never been able to replicate those results.

"There was a pond at the academy for those kind of tests. And a metal and cement room we put a thin layer of dirt and sand in for those with the earth affinity," Cam continues, picking up the thread with a thoughtful look on his face. "Elementary level students were never tested in anything that was too vast. My father always said it was for safety, and they were never tested without him and at least one other ninja instructor there. I assumed it would be the same for Thunder Academy."

"Yes and no," Hunter sighs. "There is no world where Sensei would not be present to test for that affinity, but we never had any less than three or four other instructors as well, and even that couldn't guarantee much was done in a worst-case scenario. They had a very good reason for not even touching on the concept behind elements without first teaching how to center, ground, and control currents. Power of Thunder _is_ destructive, because the way we create it is by agitating energy that would normally be at rest until it explodes, instead of guiding it in the state it's already in."

"So when you tap into that energy to see if you can even access it," Shane starts, feeling around the concept slowly, brows knitting. "You're… connecting yourself to that potential explosion, instead of connecting yourself to something more stable?" That sounded… incredibly dangerous. For a lot of reasons.

"You become the path of least resistance," Cam realizes, stiffening a little. Shane can't really blame him. The implications of that alone were… not great.

"Essentially, yeah, if we didn't know how to ground and push that energy out, create a more tantalizing path of least resistance than ourselves, it would loop through our body. So the worst case scenario becomes this," Hunter sighs, taking up his hoodie and showing them both the web of scars that continued down his neck, over his chest and shoulder and down his arm, disappearing under the fabric of his tank top at his side.

They fade more the further down they go, barely visible around his wrist and arm, going from faint and pale to darker and an agitated red the higher up it is, all of them branching out in a web-like path that remind Shane of tree branches twisting in jagged sharp angles.

It's kind of amazing, and terrible, and Shane is entirely gratified to hear Cam hiss softly next to him – to know that even to implacably calm and collected Cam this looks bad. "Even with people who can make paths of least resistance for you around, there's still a chance the energy will follow what's closest instead and circuit through you. It doesn't matter how small an amount it is, you can still damage your hand or your wrist or your arm."

 _Or your face_ , Shane thinks, eyes flicking back up from Hunter's wrist. He wishes, with a sudden vicious ferocity, that he'd pushed and gotten a look at Hunter yesterday instead of waiting. It had to have happened then, when Blake had pushed Dustin, but he'd let himself get distracted and no wonder Hunter had pressed his face to his hands. It had to have been agonizing.

"Lichtenberg scars," Cam says, drawing Shane out of his head. Cam spares him a look and must take pity on whatever expression Shane is making because he continues, "They're… it's something that can happen to the ground when lightning strikes. Or to people. A few other things form it in nature – like snowflakes. It's, the pattern, it's called a Lichtenberg figure. In the case of people it's from… capillaries rupturing beneath the skin."

"Do _not_ start panicking," Hunter warns, eyes narrowed and locked on Shane.

"I'm not panicking," Shane says back, even though he kind of is panicking, fingers flexing slowly and shivering again. "So this is…" he starts, trying to override the unfairly dubious look both Hunter and Cam are now sending him. "What you've been hiding? Why would you hide this? What would that have accomplished?" Yeah, just ask questions. Get something to focus on. That helped.

"Ideally?" Hunter drawled, actually rolling his eyes like this was an everyday thing. Then again. Wasn't it? Cam didn't seem to be having any trouble coping with this new development, but maybe that's because he already knew? Or suspected? Probably suspected – he didn't like to share theories he couldn't confirm and no one had really pressed him for what he might know. "I would have managed to avoid this exact situation," Hunter says.

"What situation?" Shane demands, attention swiveling back to Hunter, who continues to stare at him unimpressed and not amused. Well good. Hunter shouldn't feel like laughing when Shane didn't feel like laughing anyway. It was about time they got on the same page.

"You panicking."

"I already told you I'm not-" Shane cut off abruptly, wincing a little and rubbing his jaw where Hunter had flicked the forming bruise roughly. " _Ow._ "

"I'm fine," Hunter says clearly, crossing his arms and turning his attention briefly to Cam. "And this is temporary."

"It's what?" they ask, together _thank God,_ because the look Hunter shoots him was basically a promise for more physical pain and the only thing that had stayed Hunter's hand was Cam also finding this worthy of asking aloud.

"It's temporary. Impermanent. Momentary. Fleeting."

"We get it," Cam interrupts sharply, frowning at him. "How? I've heard of them fading, but the scars don't ever disappear."

"Yeah, that I don't know," Hunter sighs. "I do know this isn't the first time it's happened, but it's only ever happened since Blake and I became power rangers. Only saving grace so far is you've experienced it too, Mr. Freezing Winds," Hunter mutters, jerking his head toward Shane.

"Justified," Shane grumbles back. This sort of explained why Hunter was so smug even after punching Shane in the face, though. Aside from getting to punch Shane in the face (and Shane was under _no_ delusion that such an act was anything other than a _delight_ for Hunter) Shane couldn't really tease Hunter for losing control of his element when Shane sometimes had the same issue.

Which was rapidly becoming something that Shane felt like doing, if only because it was the best way he could soothe some of the riotous tension that had been sitting heavy in his shoulders and just under his rib cage. Granted, Shane had less potentially dangerous results most of the time, but still – more power and less control equaled the occasional backlash issue. It'd probably be safer for Shane's pride if he found a different outlet than teasing Hunter anyway. There was really only so much he could take from Hunter's personal brand of retribution.

"Our healing ability has definitely accelerated," Cam muses thoughtfully. "Perhaps this is another sign of that, healing more permanent injuries over time that otherwise would not."

"Whatever it is, it's convenient," Hunter says flippantly. Cam's eyes narrow at the lack of shared enthusiasm to explain physical phenomena. Shane would never have pegged Cam as the kind of guy to pull all-nighters simply for the sake of 'science' (which, in retrospect, was foolish) but at least now they had Cyber Cam to make the declaration for him whenever he completed a project. There was no doubt in Shane's mind that this was going to sit on the back burner for Cam until he had a definitive answer, regardless of him sharing his findings with the rest of them. "Most of the time they'll heal within a day or so."

"Why haven't these?" Shane asks. He can practically feel Hunter about to shrug, but Cam answers for him.

"His body has been too busy trying to keep him from overheating and dying of heat stroke."

" _Also,_ " Hunter bites out, rolling his eyes at Cam's 'melodramatics.' "We used a lot of techniques before the heat wave in ways that we probably shouldn't have. And instead of taking a backseat on that, we've been attending training to get in touch with our element."

"You entered a combat situation and didn't ground yourself before you used your element even knowing the potential consequences?" Cam demands, which Shane feels like should probably be his line except his head is still stuck on Hunter and Blake apparently finding the idea of _hiding their wounds_ more appealing than _healing them properly_.

It's taking a minute.

"We grounded. We didn't center; I know I'm amazing but shooting lightning from my fingertips is not as easy as I make it look. You go ahead and try it and then judge me," Hunter scoffs.

"No, don't," Shane interrupts, half a plea and half an order, trying not to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Children, I am equally impressed with both of you please stop fighting." They both glare at him for that. Shane feels a little more settled in his skin for it. It's almost enough to make him want to grin. "So that's a combat situation. What happened yesterday?" He asks, focusing them before the two can eviscerate him with growly words. "Another lack of control?"

"No," Hunter admits grudgingly, still glaring at him. Shane waits patiently, eyebrows lifting higher when Hunter doesn't continue.

"Seriously?" He demands at the continued reticence, changing tracks. "Why'd Blake push Dustin?"

"That's easy dudes," Dustin himself answers, bouncing into the room with a grin on his face, hand flapping in greeting. He's leading the fray, Blake and Tori next to each other behind him, and he only stumbles half a step when he sees Hunter. "Ouch. Blake was right, you do look like the bad kind of starburst."

"Explain," Cam said tersely, which might have actually been effective and might have just gotten him a rambling explanation of Hunter's face being equated to either a candy or something in space (sixty-forty odds with Dustin, in favor of the candy) but it was mostly overridden by Hunter's half-startled, half-hysterical demand of:

"What the _hell_ happened to you?" Blake doesn't even sigh, eyebrow arched and smirking proudly, completely owning the tank top and dark ink that swirls in blooming stars that may or may not also be flowers dancing down his shoulders and over his arms. His scars are much paler, streaks of white against his skin in lieu of Hunter's faded black and bright angry red, but the pattern is as distinctly different as it is eye-catching with the tattoos now parading over his skin.

"It's called Henna," he answers smug and pleased with himself. "Relax bro, it's temporary. Nice design though, I promised I'd let them do it."

"Why?" Hunter demands.

"Because there are better decisions in life than completely failing to tell your teammates when your body needs to _heal_ ," Tori interrupts. Shane leans back on principle, scooting away from Hunter as carefully as he can and ignoring the look he gets from Hunter in doing so. Just because some people didn't know how to pick their battles didn't mean Shane had to suffer the consequences. "You're next."

"I am _not_ next."

"You are _so_ next," Dustin cheers, coming to sit down directly between Shane and Hunter, smiling brightly at him. Tori settles between Shane and Cam, and Blake sits on his brother's other side, a sudden circle forming while Blake flicks Hunter's shoulder.

"You're not getting out of it bro. Dustin and I already called dibs."

"Dibs on tattooing me," Hunter deadpans, eyes narrowing. Wise to be mistrustful of his brother's bright grin.

"Yep."

"You've never done this before. You're not getting anywhere near me with a needle."

"It's a paste," Dustin corrects happily, setting something on the floor in front of Hunter. "No needles. No permanence, dude. Promise."

"Regardless," Hunter says, eyes still locked on Blake. "You're not doing this."

"Mine turned out okay."

"Did you do yours?" Hunter asks incredulously.

"Nope." Blake answers brightly.

"Tori and I did his," Dustin explains, and Shane watches with a tiny bit of wonder as Hunter turns his eyes from Blake to Dustin and then back to Blake before they snap to Tori.

"Fine. Switch." Dustin cheers again, and Tori and Blake high five as they switch places. "You make flowers I am burning this off."

"Dude, it's a _paste_. It dries and crumbles," Dustin sighs laboriously, patting Hunter's shoulder. Tori just smiles, nodding to promise sincerity while Blake goes from cheerful to pouting, slowly starting to lean toward Shane when Cam's attention swiftly turns to the navy ranger.

"Why push Dustin?"

"I can so answer that," Dustin says again, grinning brightly and holding his hand out expectantly. Hunter eyes him with an equally wary look before Tori prods at his other arm and her eyebrow lifts, the crimson ranger rolling his eyes and tossing up both hands before begrudgingly holding them out for the pair, most of the rest of his energy going to glare at Blake, and then Cam.

"Are you going to?" Shane prompts, Dustin making a low distracted noise with his throat.

"It's all about rebound," he says. Then his eyes narrow and he's opening up whatever kit he'd laid on the ground and then Hunter is getting drawn on, and that's apparently all the attention Dustin is going to spare them.

"Ground electricity," Blake finally answers. "I pushed Dustin to break his connection, because the charge was looking to come up and Dustin would have been a conduit. Made it in time, but instead of just dispersing in the ground there was a bit too much kick, so the flash was the return stroke of the electricity basically shooting back up through Hunter."

"Hunter was creating a path for the energy to flow," Tori says and they obviously got this explanation from Blake already. Her fingers still, patiently waiting on Hunter's arm. She doesn't look up, focused on the movements she's making, but she is being careful, waiting for the tension in Hunter's hands to ease before she continues to apply the henna. Hunter must realize it, because he's at least putting in an effort to relax, eyes tracing the paths they make closely. "Dustin was also creating an open connection between himself and the earth. Apparently, the two of them were too close to each other, and so when those paths 'met' it was like a bridge."

"A highway bridge," Dustin confirms. "Way too fast for me to know what was happening, or for Hunter to stop it." Worst case scenario, Shane remembers. Except that would have been Dustin. And oh wow did they dodge a bullet with that one. If _Dustin_ had been – bad. They would have, _Shane_ would have – never mind setbacks. That was a recipe for an instant fight, real and unpleasant in every way.

"So how did you know?" Cam asks Blake, crossing his arms. Blake shrugs.

"I felt it."

"How?"

"With the power of his _mind,_ seriously?" Hunter asks, eyes narrowing.

"It's a good question," Shane interrupts, shaking his head. "If you were both tapping into your element."

"I wasn't," Blake sighs, leaning back on his hands. The henna tattoos were something else, eye catching and intricately unique by virtue of what they hid, and now that Shane could think without the blaring assumptions and need to find out who had hurt them and how running rampant in his head, they did look kind of… neat. "It'd be incredibly reckless for the both of us to try and do that with anyone else around. It's kind of reckless for us to do that with just the two of us around."

Multiple instructors, masters, people there for the worst case scenario, and of course it would be. They still had to learn, had to know, but their masters weren't around, the closest one they had was Sensei now – Sensei and their instincts and each other.

_It always comes back to that, doesn't it?_

Shane frowned, tracing the path of Blake's scars with the same intensity he had traced Hunter's, memorizing it – easier and harder, with the tattoos, and he didn't even have to look at Dustin or Tori to know that this wasn't going to stop, they'd continue this every time until the scars healed and faded away, and start it over again when new ones formed.

Because this was important. So important, even if he'd never put it into words. Maybe not quite 'body shy' as Tori had teased but… something similar. A physical wound of the things they didn't have, couldn't do safely every time anymore, another way the safety net they all used to have was pulled out from under them.

They might not be able to stop it; Shane refused to let that mean they couldn't help. Paste that crumbled off and tattoos that faded away but would linger after the scars; a stain on their skin that stayed just long enough to cement itself as a memory, something the two could have that meant they'd _gained_ something. That was what this could be worth. What it _would_ be worth, by the time Tori and Dustin were through. That was good, but not enough.

He lifts his eyes, finds Cam staring pensively as well, and has an epiphany.

"Path of least resistance," he says slowly, and Cam – _genius, observant, wonderful Cam_ – slowly tilts his head, searching Shane before he startles, eyes widening in a single, sharp nod. Understanding. Determination. Agreement.

"You two have your creepy faces on," Blake says warily, looking between them.

"We'll help," Shane declares, turning his attention from Cam to Blake. "We can make your training less dangerous."

"Uh," Blake startles. "No offense, guys, but-"

"You said your energy takes the path of least resistance," Cam starts, attention turning unerringly to Hunter who looks dubious at best to the pair of them. "It will take time, and practice, but it's better than one of you getting a few hours of actual work done while the other tries to spend all their energy on predicting something erratic. If Dustin can be considered a conduit than I definitely can be."

"Woah, we are not grounding _through_ you," Blake objects, glaring when Cam makes an impatient hand motion to cut him off. Shane reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, tapping lightly and Blake tilts his head back to look at him before subsiding reluctantly.

"Of course not. That wouldn't help anything. But if the issue is control we can experiment with creating other paths for the power to follow. That's how intermediate practices were done at Thunder Academy, right?" he asks shrewdly. Shane doesn't know if it's a guess born from experience and data collection or if it's something Sensei told Cam, but he knows it's not wrong just from the way neither Blake nor Hunter actually answer.

"And I can create harder paths," Shane tacks on. "Either for later when you're trying to force it through my own energy or to help coax your power where you want it to go until you're where you need to be."

"What makes you think you're any less of a conduit than these two?" Hunter asks, jerking his head roughly to the side. Dustin smacks his shoulder lightly in admonishment when it moves his arm, and it's – the paste is slowly taking form, the basic outline following a tree pattern that Dustin is randomly turning into almost cartoonish looking spikes and swirls. He's pretty sure Tori had made an abstract smiley face on Hunter's shoulder.

"You said it yourself," Shane answers, smiling a little. He can't help it at this point, because Hunter wouldn't have asked if he wasn't considering it, and if Hunter was on board than Blake was guaranteed to follow – he'd thought he'd have to fight harder about this. But then, well, he never thought Hunter could be so easily bullied into being painted on either. So.

"You're forcing the natural energy in the air to move." He waggles his fingers, and knows he's on the right track when Blake stares thoughtfully at his hands. "So if I'm controlling it while you're forming it and Cam's manipulating everything _else_ natural pathways are going to form anyway. Worst case, I know I can make any path that leads directly to me completely unappealing. Or I can cut my connection."

"That's sort of a major oversimplification," Hunter says begrudgingly.

"We don't need all of the theory behind Thunder Academy's secret arts," Cam adds, neutral but firm. "Those are yours to keep. But this isn't unreasonable either. We can always hold council with my father before we try anything."

"Target practice," Blake offers up quietly. "Focus on something large and far away for a long time before we even think of connecting something like this. It's too risky otherwise."

"…Alright," Hunter agrees quietly, eyes locked with his brother's for an entirely too lengthy stretch of silence. "But if we say stop, or call it off, then it's done. Immediately."

"Of course," Shane says, meeting Hunter head on, this time letting the smile bloom and settle on his face. This was the kind of thing he'd been looking for, a stepping stone to actually draw them closer. "We'll go over the roster later. Figure it out."

It's not hard to see the relieved tilt of Blake's head, the cautious calm that blankets Hunter when he willingly closes his eyes and leans back against the wall. Tori and Dustin share a smile, and Shane takes a little bit more comfort than he probably should from the proud look Tori gives him after, but that was fine.

This was good. Better than, even, and some things didn't have to be said.


	3. The Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bradley's don't sleep well and Hunter delegates. (Because everyone needs a Tori.)

_Hunter hadn't meant for things to escalate like this. Everything was spiraling, spinning and burning like an immutable buzz under his skin. His head itched, his eyes ached, and his throat was tense and tight, blood pumping hot and furious with every tight inhale and shaky exhale. He was angry. He wasn't even sure he remembered why._

_It certainly didn't matter. Across from him, sharp-eyed and tense and uncoiling from his defensive crouch slowly Blake settled into a proper fighting stance. There was nothing loose in how he moved, there was nothing careless in the shift of his weight or the measured distance of his hands from his chest, his fingers curled into fists. He was a threat, now. He was an enemy._

_Or, no, not an enemy, but-_

_There was no trace of the laugh lines on his face that Hunter had become used to seeing. He searched for it, eyes flicking over the perfect posture, the rigid focus Blake was giving him back, but he couldn't see it. Blake's mask (was it a mask, still? Really) was gone. His tolerance had reached its limit, too._

_Blake didn't look angry. He didn't look anything, of course, but he didn't look angry. He didn't look upset. He wasn't asking why, he wasn't trying to talk reason. It was… nice. He was happy, to see that, at least. Somewhere under the anger, he could be pleased that at least Blake wasn't angry. Blake shouldn't have to be angry. Hunter wanted – he wanted to take all of that with himself, when this was over._

_Hunter was always so angry, all of the time. He was afraid to lose that anger. He wasn't sure there'd be anything else that could motivate him to go on if he lost that driving force._

_Blake doesn't talk. It's good._

_(He was expecting begging, pleading, waiting for a desperate scream to-)_

_Except that it means that Hunter doesn't have any proper warning at all when Blake lunges, the blur of too-fast movement, the sharp brutal edge of lightning burning through him even as his vision narrows to nothing but the black outline of Blake's body, the rest of the world faded away as he lays hit after hit after hit and Hunter can't even defend himself._

_Heh._

_Blake's come a long way from that kid who hid in closets and under beds whenever he had the chance. Hunter's a little proud._

_He falls to his knees when it's over, riding out the pain, body even more stiff than it was before as the world burns its way back into existence around him. He'd cry, but for one he doesn't have the energy, isn't capable of producing anything other than a choked breath and minute physical twitches that come from being overloaded by the element both he and his brother excelled in._

_He'd cry but he'd lost the ability sometime before the burning fury he always feels started to make his blood burn in its veins and sometime after he'd found Blake digging numbly in the dirt and burying one of their mom's favorite mugs._

_He'd cry but these days the pain feels like the anger and the anger is what drives his body. There's no energy to waste for tears._

_It's not like he's going to live through this anyway._

_The thought compels him to push off the ground, roll back from his knees to his feet unsteadily. He doesn't hear Blake behind him, and he stumbles as he turns to see._

_Stumbling saves his life, Blake's fingers crackle as they pass where his head had just been and he snarls when he punches. His fingers dig into Blake's ribs, and he moves faster than he'd thought he could, clasping his hand to back of Blake's neck and holding him close. He presses their foreheads together, panting roughly, exhausted. Blake grimaces at him._

_Hunter grins, tired and furious, and whispers soft like every prayer he's ever made to his parents, to Sensei, like every prayer he's made for the Winds, for the memories he'd hoped he'd never tarnish like everything else he tries to keep close, for_ Blake himself, _"Power of Thunder."_

* * *

_~'~,~'~_

* * *

Hunter wakes to the echo of his brother's scream in his head and the sharp, painful ache of his bruised ribs protesting the way he jerks upright and rolls off of his bed. Half a beat later he realizes that the heavy panting isn't just his own. He looks up, finds Blake in a mirror image crouch across from him, eyes slightly too wide to be shuttered, body coiled for a fight or desperate retreat.

Hunter tries to swallow, and the rough, dry pain that causes makes him choke, then cough, then choke harder. He collapses back onto the bed shakily, bows his head, braces his arms on his knees and tries to calm down and breathe through it, short and sweet. Deep breaths, he's learned from experience, only aggravate his dry throat and make him cough more. The air tends to burn the back of his mouth.

The air tonight feels particularly heavy, charged and cloying. He wonders, for a brief hysterical moment, whether or not he can grab himself a handful by reaching out and clawing at nothing. Blake, as used to this as he is, hands him a cup filled a fourth of the way water and sits down next to him.

Hunter doesn't flinch but he's pretty sure that's only because he's too tired.

"Talk," Hunter whispers, because Blake was quiet in the dream, too. Hunter needs that to be a dream.

"Drink," Blake complies. His voice is steady, even, quiet in the night but too loud for the suffocating silence ringing between Hunter's ears.

It sounds nothing like the scream. His shoulders ease down a bit more. Blake huffs and tells him again, "Drink."

"You're too used to bossing them around," Hunter whispers back. He can't make himself talk louder. Stringing even that much together made him feel more tired. The churning in his stomach hasn't eased up at all.

"Drink, Hunter," Blake says again, fingers sliding under the cup in Hunter's hands and pushing it up. Hunter takes a sip, lets Blake make him finish it, and swallows again.

It goes better that time. The scraping feelings of shards of glass has been traded out for a vague soreness and a soothing cool sensation that spread through his chest. He relaxes more, straightening up a bit and frowns when his eyes focus past the mug in his hands to the little bits of glass at his feet.

They're considerably large with singed blackened marks and jagged sharp edges that look deceptively dull under the blue glow from the numbers on Blake's alarm clock. Hunter lifts his eyes slowly, head rolling back just a bit to study the light bulb socket in the ceiling, more bits of jagged glass hanging from there, the wires twisted and blown outward, also singed black.

"Did I do that?" He asks blankly. It wouldn't necessarily be the first time. It at least explains why the heavy-static feeling in the air hasn't actually faded, despite the fact that he's pretty sure neither he nor Blake are really gearing up for any attacks. He's a little detached, but he thinks he'd notice if one of them was slowly and methodically charging up.

"No," Blake answers in the same tone he'd told Hunter to drink. The steady delivery sounds like a lie, but Hunter remembers the way Blake had been just as coiled as he was when he'd woke, how harsh those first three or four breaths had been, and when he looks Blake is staring pensively at the floor but meets his eyes without flinching.

Hunter doesn't stare long, eyes lifting back up to the ceiling. He could ask. He could reassure, reach out and try to help Blake through whatever dream had startled him badly enough that he'd come out of it swinging, shattered their lightbulb, focused on the ceiling and used it as a conduit. Except Blake didn't look shaken, just resigned and tired and a little bit mulish. Plus, Hunter still felt a little nauseous from his own…. Talking wouldn't be ideal, right now.

Still, though, "Blake?"

"Yeah?" Blake sighs, dragging a hand down his face. Hunter sets his mug to the side carefully, leans back on his bed on his hands and sets aside the mild irritation he feels at the thought that Blake could have cut his feet open on those shards and neither of them probably would have noticed right away. Besides, Blake's pulling his feet up to sit cross-legged anyway, so it's effectively a non-issue right now.

"We should probably stop going through so many lightbulbs," Hunter muses.

Blake huffs, disbelief threading through the sound, the faint smile on his lips makes him look older but exasperated – willing to be surprised by the world they both live in. "Yeah," he agrees.

They don't sleep, after that. As a rule of thumb, unless one of them is seriously injured (in which case, the other isn't actually sleeping _anyway_ ) if it's a night where they've both woken up because of their own heads they don't go back to sleep.

Sometimes, Hunter can be bullied into it anyway, or sometimes Blake just breathes out a slow, careful curse and meditates until he loses the thread of concentration and actually nods off.

Tonight, Hunter thinks of the nausea still churning gently through him, and the thought of not being able to just drop his eyes and see Blake, looking either rueful or sheepish or pensive or exasperated at the floor, and knows for a fact he wouldn't be able to handle it.

Seeing Blake's face lax in sleep is too close to seeing it lax in the dream. He's grateful that Blake isn't even trying. He should probably worry more about his brother's mystery dream but he's too tired to feel ashamed that he's not.

(He's very much afraid that the dream is the same, except in the ways it isn't. Blake has never tried to kill him, after all. The reverse….)

It takes three hours for light to start seeping into their apartment. The room turns a softer shade of blue than the blue from the alarm clock. The glass on the floor looks almost fake, blended into the ground, and Hunter nudges a shard of the glass with his toe. He doesn't feel all that much, but Blake gets up and cleans it all away, now that they can see it and they've settled as much as they're going to.

Hunter feels settled at least. Enough that he can flop himself sideways on the bed he's been sitting in for a decent amount of the night and glare at Blake's clock. "Sooner or later," he grumbles, "that's gonna be the thing to go."

"Hunter," Blake says affably, sounding almost cheerful as he sweeps up glass from their floor into a pan, and Hunter turns his head to watch Blake meticulously pick up the larger shards, smooth his thumb expertly along the jagged edges and smooth sides, paper thin though it all is. "You're not going to break my alarm clock."

"Well," Hunter considers, feeling more assured than he probably should when he's threatening Blake's things and Blake is holding lethal weaponry. "Not on _purpose_."

"Or ever," Blake concludes, and Hunter opens his mouth. Blake's eyes lift up and lock on him. He blinks once, innocent, eyebrows lifting up. Hunter's mouth shuts and with a groan he rolls over to the other side of the bed to get to his feet.

"I'm just trying to prepare you for an undesirable but likely outcome," he huffs, retreating to the bathroom before Blake can make him pay for it. He's too tired to snicker, but he feels a little lighter, easier and more settled in his skin all the same.

* * *

_~'~,~'~_

* * *

Blake makes him pay for it.

Breakfast is an entirely alarming affair of toast and butter and a mountain of sugar mixed with cinnamon. He eyes it dubiously, then Blake, who smiles placidly and brightly informs him that it came highly recommended from Dustin and that Blake had _promised_ that they'd try it at least once this week. Hunter eats it mutinously, because he's not an _idiot_ and he knows when he's being threatened but he also knows when it's better to stage a tactical retreat.

He pays for it at Storm Chargers, too, but that he minds a little less. He's still running his tongue over the tacky taste clinging stubbornly to his teeth from the sugar by the time they get there. So he's understandably distracted when Blake maneuvers himself toward working near the back of Storm Chargers today, leaving Hunter in charge of customer service but still somehow managing to get Hunter to agree to do a majority of the inventory after the fact.

Hunter wouldn't have to worry about Blake so much if he didn't insist on constantly dividing these powers of his between serving Tori and serving _evil_. Kelly is a wonder, though, and seems to take the buffer of the customer crowd herself. It's a good thing, because Hunter is settled, but he's not comfortable in his skin. It's a dichotomy he's used to, but not one that makes communicating with the general populace particularly wise. He can't really justify taking his mood out on Kelly's customers, but he's glad that he doesn't have to try much or for very long all the same.

He also tries, mostly in vain, to ignore the immediate and visceral realization that Blake is worse off today. His little brother was the cheerful buffer between Hunter and the rest of the world. He'd been doing it for so long, and so instinctively, that it was barely any more effort than breathing unless he was severely rattled – that was the only time he retreated back into his own quiet, calculating head and let Hunter take the lead, drawing everyone's stares through conflict and deliberate goading.

It was a defense mechanism, a poorly socialized one that no one had really managed to completely sand down. On days like this, it was downright explosive. Usually Hunter controlled just what he said, how he said it, how he moved and acted to ignite enough conflict and upset he could handle it while Blake licked his wounds in the background… but on too little sleep and with the shaky-after image of Blake withdrawn and then screaming and then _too-still_ in his head he couldn't guarantee that he'd stop himself before he acted out or crossed a line he wouldn't be able to recover from.

He'd have to talk to Blake. And soon, if he didn't manage to recover from the worst of this on his own by the time their shifts ended today. He should've done it this morning, but he hadn't been thinking really – hadn't been thinking at all if he's honest, and the thoughts he did have had been entirely revolved around himself.

 _Yeah, real considerate_ , and he knows that it's not. Blake deserved better. He always deserved better. Hunter just wondered when the heck his own innate selfishness was going to hurt someone _else_ for a change. There were only so many years a guy could put up with Hunter's special brand of _jerk_ before ties were cut and hands were washed.

He's pulled from his thoughts by Kelly's voice asking if Blake's alright, if he needs a few minutes, and Hunter's attention shifts. Try and find what he'd missed when he wasn't paying attention that had tipped Kelly off and led her to offering in the first place. It's about the only reason he sees the genuine, if small, smile on Blake's face freeze and then widen while the rest of his body falls into deceptively casual pose. His shoulders lower, his arms loosen, his palms turn outward, and his eyes shut down completely.

Hunter turns his head to see the threat, adrenaline kick-starting in his veins at potential danger, and has to freeze himself as that hot rush of adrenaline turns cold and chills him when he sees Tori smile and start toward Blake.

 _Oh_.

So _that_ was what Blake's dream was about.

"Hey, Tori," he calls out to her, getting her to turn her head and neatly stepping into her path. She looks confused, but stops and spares a smile for him, too.

It's a nice gesture and Hunter has to remind himself both that he has to push down the sharp edge of aggression under his skin and that from Tori it's genuine. It's for Blake – and for him alone everything Hunter must do is easier. "Can I steal a couple minutes?"

"Sure," she answers, and at least now she looks amused instead of concerned. Hunter sees Blake waggle his fingers and grin out of the corner of his eye, herded into the back room by Kelly, and takes a breath. "What's wrong?" Tori asks, before Hunter can get a word out, and huffs at Hunter's raised eyebrows. "What? Don't give me that look. I know something is wrong."

"Nothing's _wrong_ ," he grumbles, shaking himself out of his surprise and scowling at her. "Why do you think something's wrong?"

"Because you never prowl around the front of Storm Chargers unless something is wrong," Tori replies. Hunter crosses his arms. Tori mimics him, and then continues, "It's true! You do inventory things and scare people off from starting fights inside, you don't do customer service."

She's not wrong, but there are implications here that Hunter isn't sure he approves of. He points this out with a dry, "What if I just feel like being a people person today?" He probably deserves the look Tori gives him but – seriously, he's not _incapable_ of holding a conversation with a stranger. A business conversation, even!

"Then you'll either tutor one of the kids or socialize at the tracks. Look, will you just tell me what's wrong already? I'm starting to get worried." Hunter blinks dumbly at her a few moments too long and knows it, but can't help it.

Most of him, in moments like these, are busy warring with the parts of himself that's mired in a paranoia-based panic that he's been read and needs to _get away_ with the rest of his rational mind that's telling him that Tori's a teammate and an observant one and they've been around each other for like months of _course_ she knows that it's not even something he's tried to hide.

Other times, Hunter's busy wishing with a kind of resigned defeatist outlook that he was the kind of older brother that could deny supporting Blake in the things that made him happy because then he wouldn't have to support Blake-and-Tori and these situations _wouldn't happen to him_.

Today, in this moment, it was an alarming mix of both.

"Hunter."

"Nothing's wrong," he repeats numbly, shaking himself out of it and sighing at Tori's unimpressed stare. "I just wanted to ask you to take him somewhere a little more isolated than usual today."

Tori's eyebrows probably couldn't climb higher on her head if she pulled them up with her fingers. "I think I can set up my own talks with Blake, Hunter." He's pretty sure that Tori wanted to look offended, but was still stalled by 'confused.' He could work with confusion.

"It's not like that," Hunter mutters. "He didn't really sleep last night, or if he did it wasn't something I saw." That much was actually true. Hunter had gone to sleep first, and they'd woken up more or less together. He had no idea how long Blake had actually slept. "I'd harass him myself, but…"

"No, I got it. Don't worry, we'll take it easy today." It's a promise, and Hunter knows that even with the unease lingering under Blake's skin and even if he doesn't tell her what the dream is about she'll help. Being around, being alive and whole and coherent, it all helped, in little ways that helped ease the tiny fears that gnawed at the backs of minds. Tori was smart, observant, so even if she didn't get it she'd catch on quickly, and when it mattered Blake didn't hedge around issues. They'd figure it out. Blake would be alright.

He was so caught up in those thoughts he completely missed the thoughtful look Tori gave his back, or the worried frown that hadn't really left.

* * *

_~'~,~'~_

* * *

Blake loves his brother, he really does, but sometimes he doesn't know how he should translate that love to his everyday life. It had been easy in their apartment, for the brief moments that they'd been interacting, pushing themselves to get things in gear and ready for the day. Hunter had set the tone, threatening to explode Blake's alarm clock, and Blake had responded in turn by making him breakfast.

He'd had a couple granola bars himself, but Hunter didn't need to know that and he _knew_ the guy was off his game because after one vague Dustin-shaped threat he hadn't even bothered to question it. Blake knew how to take the small victories and run with them, which was really how the Storm Chargers thing had come about.

He hadn't expected Tori.

Which was – it was stupid. He should have. Of course Tori would stop in, she always did, a general expected highlight in his routine of work, train, chill, train, sleep, wake, work. He should've worked the front, tension aside. Interacting with people didn't really smooth out his sharper edges, but it did help him get a grip on the present. If he had, seeing Tori probably wouldn't have been such a blatant shock.

He hadn't been prepared, knew his breath had stopped and his body had reacted before he could help it. Watching her talk with Hunter had helped stop the knee-jerk reaction. The smiles she sent to them both weren't strained, there was no blood, and probably most importantly Hunter hadn't _been_ in his dream. He'd been conspicuously absent and hadn't seen what Blake had done, hadn't reacted, like Shane and Dustin and Cam had. So obviously their super-secret conversation near the front counter wouldn't end with hurricanes or earthquakes or anything like that, and he'd felt better waving back at Tori and letting Kelly bully him into the backroom.

Of course, if he'd known then that Hunter was deliberately putting the pair of them _alone_ he probably would've sucked it up and joined them back in the shop. He had to assume it was retaliation for breakfast. He didn't want to think it was worry because that would mean Hunter was worried over something as stupid as a nightmare. They had actual life to stress over, dreams didn't need to eat up any more of their limited time, thanks.

"So, are you going to tell me what's going on with Hunter or do you want to talk about the dejected look Dustin was giving everyone in the shop before we left?"

"What?" Blake blinks, lifting his eyes from the rocks below them to Tori. She's smiling, and Blake tells himself once again that he deserves it. It's a work in progress, but he's at least come far enough to not doubt her intentions whenever she looks at him like that. He's positive Hunter hasn't gotten that far. Emotional maturity point for Blake. (His original lead had grown a _lot_ since joining with the Winds, mostly because Hunter regressed every time he tried to put his foot forward around Shane and any time he was in the same _room_ as Cam.)

Blake would help him, really, but they haven't hurt Hunter yet and honestly it's not like Hunter's going to learn by proxy. If he were capable of learning vicariously through someone else he'd have picked up on all of Blake's play-nice cues _long_ before now. Mostly, Blake's relegated that Herculean task to Dustin, because Hunter needs more painfully sincere pep in his life and Blake figures Dustin is as close as they were going to get.

An amused huff drags his attention back to Tori, whose smile has incredibly widened. "Or we could talk about seabirds," she says, and the humor in her voice is as confusing as it is heartening.

"Seabirds?" Blake asks, just in time for one to swoop down and steal the sandwich Tori had put in his hands on their way here. He yelps, half-lunges in an aborted reach for them, and then sighs when Tori fails to smother a laugh into her hand. "I was eating that," he grumbles.

"Were you?" she laughs. It's not a question, not even a pretense to prod for something deeper, and Blake feels some of the tension in his chest uncoil and relax, a wry smile on his face.

"I mean I was going to. It looked really good," he defends weakly. It had, actually, and he only realizes how hungry he is now that it's long gone. _Typical._

"I'll make you another one later," she promises. Blake hums, shifting to look at her, and then lets his eyes drop to the half-eaten sandwich in her lap. "Absolutely not, Blake Bradley, you had your chance," Tori says immediately, shifting back and half-holding her sandwich away from him. He wants to laugh. It's a fleeting realization, and as soon as he thinks it the surprise washes away most of the humor that had been bubbling up inside of him. He lifts his hands instead, tacit surrender as his smile fades a bit and he lifts his eyes to the sky, watching the birds fly and bits of his sandwich fall to the water below as they fight over it, fish taking the spoils that they can.

One of the birds dive bombs, and Blake watches its progression with sharp eyes as it lifts off with a fish in its grasp. It's a swift movement, from beginning to end, and Blake can't help but idly wonder if it would have been that smooth if he hadn't accidentally given them ammunition. A lure to bring the fish closer to the surface, make them easy prey. Would it have died the same way if he'd been paying more attention, saved his own meal? Would it have died somewhere else? Was it a baby fish that didn't know better? A hungry adult fish that left its school behind? Put the whole school in danger? Had the birds—

"Would Hunter like it up here?"

Planned it?

"Yes," he decides. Then blinks, head snapping back to Tori, "What?"

"You're all over the place," Tori notes, tearing her sandwich and holding part of it out to him. "I didn't know you could do scattered."

"I didn't know you could read minds," he answers, and then, "Sorry."

"I read Blake," she answers with a huff of humor. Her eyes haven't left his. He could never make himself look away from a threat. "Just," she continues quieter, something in her shoulders lowering, like there's a weight there making them slump but her spine won't curve under the pressure, "maybe not that well."

There's a platitude on the tip of his tongue, _I think you do just fine_ or _It's not a hard read, you've got it down,_ or even _Better than anyone else._ He can't make himself say any of it. "You're learning," he settles on, mouth dry and throat unexpectedly tight. He can feel his pulse in his throat, his wrists, and he lets out a careful breath.

"You only show me the best parts," Tori observes. It's a lie. He's acutely aware of just how much of a lie it is in that moment; the weight settles like an ache in his bones and his fingers twitch and hover uncertainly. Belatedly, he realizes she's still holding out part of her sandwich to him, and he takes it with numb fingers. Bites into it.

It's as good as he thought it was. He glares at the thieving birds, and then makes himself meet Tori's eyes again. "I'm not sure you'd like the other stuff," he admits. "It gets in the way, brings down the quality of the whole thing." He's not a good read, laid bare for people to see, and he's not delusional enough to think it. He's afraid she might be, for all that she's whole and observant and smart she's as loyal as he is and twice as optimistic. He's self-aware enough to know that's not necessarily a good thing. Considering.

"I think I can live with that," Tori answers. _Can you?_ Blake thinks bleakly. _Can you really?_ Tori smiles again, and Blake eats the rest of the sandwich, feeling himself shut down, swallow mechanically. She recognizes it, and impossibly, her smile widens. "Who knows? It might end up being one of my favorites."

"Yeah?" he asks, too raw to be embarrassed by the way his voice comes out closer to a whisper. She shifts, and he accepts the press of her side against his, the weight of her head on his shoulder.

"No good book comes without conflict, Blake," she muses. He can hear the smile on her face, soft and kind and willing to understand if he gives her the puzzle piece by piece. "Not even ones for little kids."

"Do they come damaged?" He asks sarcastically.

"Sometimes," Tori answers, and then in the same easy tone, "if they're well-loved."

_Damn it, Tor._

He lifts an arm to wrap around her shoulders, reminds himself that she's solid and real and alive against him. Breathes deep and feels and tastes and sees the sea salt and water before them both. "Gonna keep reading, then?" he asks.

"Of course," she grins, turning her head and urging Blake to look at her. He does, because he's found it increasingly hard to deny her anything, and tries not to drown in the playful tenderness he finds. "Like I said. I think this one might become my favorite."

He smiles, slow and real, and for the first time since he woke to Hunter's dead-eyed stare and the sharp crackle of broken glass and singed air, feels normal. Better. He takes a deep breath, squeezes her shoulder, and melts into her when she slides an arm around his waist and squeezes back.


	4. How To Mesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers settle. Shane does some old school reassuring. And some of that training pays off.

Team practice is… he won't call it a disaster. He _remembers_ the first practices they had, with Hunter and Shane both plying for upstart Rookie of the Year with how much posturing they did around each other, and then later how the practices involving Cam went. In light of those spectacular instances, Blake can't in good conscience it a disaster. But the fact that he has to search and use those as examples doesn't really speak well for how the training actually went.

Good news: Shane doesn't look angry, despite the fact he'd spent most of their session on the defensive and trying to keep his head attached while Hunter pulled absolutely zero punches and generally went all out in a way he hasn't since Disastrous Training Attempt # 4. Today, it looked like they'd actually built some kind of rhythm to get to that point and Shane hadn't had time to de-escalate and wind him down before Dustin apparently thought it was serious and brought everything to a grinding halt.

Blake hadn't squared off against Tori, stating loudly that he was facing Cam and no one else and (after a look he didn't understand from her) no one had argued – even when it looked like they wanted to. Shane had singled out Hunter, and Dustin and Tori had faced off against each other in a fight that looked (and sounded) like it was mostly just them playing a complicated game of tag and teasing each other.

Currently, Hunter looks like he is going to bolt. It's something about the way he'd shifted his weight when Dustin had interfered, and the way he holds himself now with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Dude," Dustin is saying, while Shane mostly just tries to catch his breath. "You know we're not the enemy right? We're not actually trying to hurt each other." Blake's dream comes in snap shots – worse in the moment because it's layered by memories: Dustin hurt and confused and unleashing it in a torrent of Earth, Shane thrown back into the side of a cliff, Tori collapsed by the beach. He shakes it off, take the bottle Cam is handing to him and then steals the one he'd probably gotten for himself, chucking it hard and fast.

"Hey, bro!" He calls, and Hunter's attention _shatters_. Blake feels it long before Hunter reaches out and catches the bottle, reflexively crushing part of the plastic and sending the cap flying off like a shot accompanied by the sharp crackling hiss of steam. Dustin, surprised, steps back, and Shane steps forward protectively, but Hunter's already grimacing, turning his back on the pair of them.

His eyes are bleak when Blake steps in his way. _Thought so_ , he thinks grimly, not at all satisfied that he'd caught his brother out. "Drink this," he says lightly, opening his own and doing just that before holding it out for him.

"I'm fine," Hunter says, looking like he wants to sidestep but doesn't actually dare walk away from Blake. Points for him, he's not an _idiot_ , just off balance.

"Good to know, me too by the way," Blake says, actually meaning it as he steals the half-destroyed water bottle and pushing his into Hunter's hands. Hunter's fingers twitch, then he tips his head back and drains the rest of Blake's water bottle. Blake hums, grinning a little and Hunter sighs slowly, swiping the ruined bottle from him and heading back into Ninja Ops without a word.

"Where's he-?" Shane starts, brows knitting a little.

"To throw away the water bottle he ruined. No refilling that," Blake answers glibly, attention turning to Shane. He hesitates, scanning the other quickly, then relents. "You're fine?" Shane's head turns away from Hunter's path to Blake, eyebrows lifting.

"I'm fine. He wasn't trying to hurt me," Shane says, and then clasps a hand on Dustin's shoulder, squeezing once. "Honestly, it felt like he was distracted."

"That was not distracted-fighting," Dustin protests, turning to Shane. Shane smiles a bit.

"I mean he wasn't focusing on me. Something else was on his mind. He's more controlled with the team," Shane explains, clarifying absolutely nothing. Blake tries not to get distracted by the implications of that, as well as the sudden knowledge that apparently Hunter and Shane find time to train together separately and Blake didn't know. "Is he going to be okay?"

"He's fine," Blake answers.

"Guess you're both a little scatter-brained today," Tori says lightly. Her eyes are sharp though, even without a heavy weight to her words and Blake smiles a little helplessly in response.

"Sorry. I've got to- we're fine, okay? I think he and I should duck out today. Call us if something happens?" Blake pauses long enough to see Cam's thoughtful nod, and jets before he can get suckered into answering questions he has no business being asked.

Finding Hunter inside isn't hard, the other is braced over the kitchen sink, head bowed and melted bottle in the trash as promised. He doesn't say anything; he just steps up to Hunter and grabs his wrist, tugging him away. Hunter follows mutely, shooting him a curious look and frowning when Blake offers no explanations.

"You're not gonna run me around Blue Bay Harbor are you?" Hunter asks, tone wavering between sarcastic and wary. Blake smirks and shrugs innocently since the thought had entered his mind but eventually shakes his head. It's true that he would, but that's not what he's after. He's dragging Hunter along with him up the cliff Tori had taken him to.

"Seriously?" Hunter grumbles, edging his way toward the edge and crouching down, looking at the mess of water crashing into the rocks below while Blake's eyes scan the sky.

It's not really a waiting game, the silence that spreads between them is calming despite the fact that it's plain they're both waiting for the other to talk. Hunter eventually shifts from a crouch to actually sitting, feet dangling off the edge. Blake glances down, shifts to mimic him and pauses at the iron grip on his arm, holding him back. Hunter doesn't look at him, eyes narrowed and locked on the stretch of cliff below.

"I have better balance than you," Blake points out, crossing his legs under him anyway and putting his hands on his knees, leaning back a bit. Hunter smiles crookedly, tilting his head and letting go of his arm. Compromise. It's the only reason Blake opens his mouth again to quietly ask, "Is it me?"

The silence that spreads between them is longer. Blake can actually feel the tension, the low-level static that spreads through Hunter as he thinks about it, about how to answer. Blake gives him the time.

This isn't how they normally do this. Normally, they talk while they spar, if they've gotten to a point where they have to use words at all, or they speak in the dark, where they can only feel each other by the build-up of static around them. Seeing is harder; they've built their shields around each other, grown to protect the other from all the things that have proven to be a threat – real or imagined.

Looking at Hunter, seeing him now, it's the most difficult way to talk to him and it's not even really Hunter's fault. Like this, he can see everything Hunter has taken upon himself on Blake's behalf, everything Blake hadn't figured out fast enough, thought about deep enough, moved with enough skill to defend him from. All his failures were laid out in his brother's face, failures they share because he knows Hunter feels the same – looking right back at him. He's positive Hunter is fighting back empty platitudes, the same kind Blake had struggled with talking to Tori. It's…he can feel good about that. He wants to, when he knows thinking about anything else is going to hurt.

"Yes," Hunter sighs, looking away. It's a quick dart of his eyes, shying away from his own words, before Hunter's hand is on him again, hard on his forearm. Blake doesn't wince at the tight grip. Bruises heal, and he'd rather Hunter cling than scramble to get away. They understood more together than they ever could apart.

"But it's not. It's not _you_. It's me. I just…I look at you and I can't." He swallows, and for just a minute Blake feels ill.

Hunter's expression is – he's miserable, twisted and sick and under the hard frown Blake can see just how afraid he is, and feel the desperation in the firm grip on his arm. He's seen this expression before, once. They hadn't talked about it outside of that moment, Hunter gasping for breath and crumpled on the ground, choked panicked apologies and begging for forgiveness even though he could barely get up.

"Are you…?" Blake starts, his own voice tight, brows knitting as he mentally pushes away the memory of Toxipod's Island, everything that had happened there forever ago. He has to focus here, focus now, and his mind follows the gamut of twisted jumps Hunter's brain had to have made to send him here. He bites his lip, remembers Hunter's voice in the dark of the morning, low and wavering, asking him just once to ' _talk_.' Hunter stares back, skittish even with his death-grip, trying and failing to brace for a blow of some fear he could probably never put into words. "You're…"

As if Blake would hurt him, even knowing as viscerally as he does lately that he _could_. He's sick of people hurting Hunter. He's sick of not being able to protect him.

_First things first. Focus_.

He makes his brows knit tighter, makes his lips quiver, his hands shake just a little and sway closer, taking full advantage of the mild alarm that takes over Hunter's face – much more comfortable with that than with the – with his expression from before.

"Blake?" Hunter asks, pitch shifting, attention finally leaving his memory of his dream and onto Blake himself, putting himself in a different mindset. Nothing pulled Hunter out of himself like the thought that Blake was in trouble.

"You're breaking up with me?" Blake blurts out, eyes widening and making himself look as pathetic as possible. Hunter blinks dumbly, visibly thrown, and stutters, "You –what? No- what? Wait…"

"You're not breaking up with me?" Blake asks, making sure to sound as relieved as he feels, shoulders slumping and blinking back, giving him the most earnest look he can.

"I…what?" Hunter asks helplessly.

"You said," Blake stutters, taking pity on him. "You said it wasn't me, that it was you, but… the way you made it sound."

"Oh for – you're such a jerk," Hunter breathes, exasperated and shoving him back further away from the edge of the cliff. Blake leans with the push, grinning back while Hunter groans and tugs him back almost immediately, arm shifting around his shoulders. His grip is tight, comfortable and familiar, and Blake fits against his side where he belongs, where he's always belonged, feeling the relief settle into something solid and warm. "Why does anyone ever put up with you? You're not as funny as you think you are," Hunter gripes, solid and unwavering around Blake's shoulders.

"But I'm twice as cute," he chirps, grinning wide when Hunter slants a look down at him and then snorts.

"I could really hurt you," Hunter says softly, abruptly serious again. Blake's grin softens into a smile, nodding in agreement as he slips an arm over Hunter's shoulders in turn.

"You could," he says. Hunter doesn't grimace at the admission, relaxing more when he realizes Blake is taking him seriously, turning to face him. "I can hurt you worse," he continues. Hunter blinks, frowns a little and opens his mouth, but Blake shakes his head and shifts so he can brush his knuckles over Hunter's chest, knock over his heart. "It wouldn't take much. You could probably kill me." Blake had a habit of letting his guard down when it was just the two of them, a habit he was starting to extend to Tori – thoughts for another day.

"But I could _shatter_ you," he says seriously, with all the weight and fear he'd felt when he'd first realized it. With the heavy fear and weight he's felt every time he's realized it since, every time Hunter showed him his heart without expectation, without thought – careless with his charge because he didn't _care_ if Blake hurt him, as long as Blake was happy in the end.

Blake's pretty sure that's something Hunter picked up from him. Hunter had been self-sufficient when their lives had intertwined. Blake was the one who had desperately clung to something safe, someone safe, the one that had stayed when the world left him behind again and again. Hunter had always put himself between Blake and the world back then, had opened his heart to Blake to show his little brother how, and never looked back. Of course he did it without thought now, forgetting every time the kind of monster Blake could be if he had to, if he _wanted_ to be.

"You could," Hunter agrees quietly, soft like a revelation. Finally realizing how careless he'd been with Blake all these years. Blake's heart twists, aching painfully, throat tight and he lets out a shuddering breath – feels like he's going to shatter when Hunter pulls away and finally remembers to put his defenses up around Blake too. Then Hunter is smiling at him, soft and fond and a little amused, like he always did when he patiently waited for Blake to catch up, hand lifting to ruffle his hair but arm staying firm on his shoulder. "But I know you're worth the risk," he says easily – reckless and stupid.

Blake ached for him.

"Whatever it is you see," Blake says, slumping into him and numbly letting Hunter flick his temple. "Even if it's real sometimes, or if it's real someday, we'll get through it. And even if we don't...." Exhale. Relax the jaw.

"I forgive you." He hates the words even as he says them, hates even more that he knows it's something Hunter needs to hear. Blake's never had to forgive him for anything, never had a grudge to hold, not before and not now. He just has to hope it's enough – to free Hunter from his own self-grudges.

_Selfish bastard. Stop taking everything on yourself._

Hunter doesn't answer at first, propping his chin up on Blake's head quietly before admitting, "I'll always be proud of you, you know. No matter what."

"Even though I'm dating a Wind?" Blake asks tiredly, voice muffled into Hunter's shoulder.

"Even though you're a showboating idiot who got himself hurt trying to impress a girl he fell for all of ten minutes after meeting her," Hunter counters dryly. "Also, does this mean I can finally tell _Tori_ you two are dating? Or is that just not happening?"

"Can't prove I said anything," Blake answers muzzily, retreating comfortably into familiar territory while Hunter groans and mutters something mean and then manfully pats his shoulder. "'Sides, you have _zero_ room to talk. How long've you been jumping around with special _training_ sessions jus' you an' Shane?"

"Are you falling asleep?" Hunter asks incredulously. Blake grumbles into his chest and curls up more.

"No," Blake answers mutinously, making sure to sound very clear-headed and awake even though he stubbornly doesn't open his eyes. He's making a point, here.

"Uh-hm," Hunter hums back, clearly not buying it as he shifts to his feet and pulls Blake up with him, arm still over his shoulders. "Come on."

"Ugh," Blake groans, shuffling his feet along with him.

"You're a disgrace," Hunter sighs. "Honestly, _every_ time this happens to you. Every time. It's ridiculous."

"Uh-hm," Blake parrots compliantly, still not opening his eyes, trusting Hunter to guide him mostly straight. "Never answered."

"Ever since Sensei Watanabe ordered it," Hunter snorts, still tugging him along. Blake makes a dissatisfied sound.

"That was ages ago," Blake complains, stumbling along when Hunter tugs him to the side, probably to avoid tripping over something. "You guys get along now."

"We never stopped. Seriously? This is what's eating you," he scoffs. "And here I thought it'd be us setting up the training roster that got you to harp at me about it."

"Pfft. Everyone knows Cam sets 'em up while you and Shane just argue," he says confidently, pleased to hear Hunter laugh.

"Cam _sleeps_ through the meetings."

"…What?" Blake asks, blinking his eyes open just fast enough to see Hunter's fond look get quickly swapped for a smug one.

"He sleeps through them. Shane and I actually do set them up, we have a system for it and everything. He stayed awake for like, two of them, but ever since he realized he really _wasn't_ needed a little while after Bopp-a-Roo and more often now with the Samurai ranger eating up the last of his energy he sleeps through it when he shows up. It's good for the idiot."

"Hm…" Blake tries to wrap his head around that, Shane and Hunter with their heads bowed together over a table, using real people words and looking at charts with their names tacked to it and sheaves of paper with training ideas and maybe a little dart board for them to toss things at and put them through whatever sticks, Cam sleeping in a corner wrapped up in a little blanket. Doesn't manage it. Gives up. More thoughts for another day.

Or never. Probably never. There are some things Blake is just not mentally equipped to handle. Hunter's narratives on most things is unreliable. That percentage increases when Shane or Cam are in the scenario – and his view definitely shouldn't be trusted when it's the _both_ of them.

"Step," Hunter says evenly, and Blake lifts his foot higher without thought, plodding along until he realizes he's being pushed into a bed and a blanket is being dropped over his shoulders.

"Par'ment?" Blake slurs, rolling around restlessly until he's squirmed out of his shirt. It's cool, and dark, and when Blake opens his eyes the only real source of light is the steady blue from his alarm clock, Hunter collapsing into the other mattress, face down as he grunts confirmation. Blake grins, feeling more relaxed and at ease, rolling onto his back as Hunter's breaths even out quickly. He tucks his arms behind his head, looking up at the dark ceiling and empty socket of the bulb they hadn't replaced yet, all traces of sleep leaving him, but left with the contentment and the warmth as Hunter rests peacefully.

In this, for now, there is good. Blake meditates, doesn't sleep, but Hunter rests through the night undisturbed. Tomorrow life goes on. The friction stayed between them, and then got left in the past where it belonged.

* * *

_~'~,~'~_

* * *

Hunter felt on edge. It had been almost a full week since the cliff and the interrupted training day and Hunter's lapse of control. In that time, he'd come to Ninja Ops expecting assessing looks from Cam if he couldn't avoid the Samurai ranger, and interrogating questions that did nothing but test Hunter's patience from Shane. Instead, he'd managed to successfully avoid any encounters and go over next week's training schedule with his own and Blake's work schedules in hand. Shane hadn't said a word about it, hadn't even given him poorly concealed concerned looks – Hunter knew, he'd been looking for them.

Shane didn't seem inclined to broach any subject other than what they were there for, and by the time the pair of them were done and ready for their actual training session, Hunter was visibly keyed up. Which is probably why, instead of chilling out and forcing himself back into the swing of things, he crosses his arms over his chest and stops in the middle of the hallway. "Alright, out with it," he snaps.

Shane pauses with one foot in the doorway of the training room. He doesn't say anything, just raises an eyebrow and has the gall to look confused. Hunter grits his teeth, shoving past the air ninja and ignoring the other's startled yelp. He feels a little more vindicated when a strong hand clamps down on his shoulder and spins him, and he follows the turn with a punch, nearly clipping Shane's jaw before the other leans back out of the way and knocks his arm up on reflex.

"Seriously?" Shane asks, eyes narrowing when Hunter takes a step back, settles into an aggressive stance. "What'd _I_ do?"

Hunter doesn't answer, doesn't really have one and besides Shane should _know_. He's the one not acting right. There was a system in place for when Hunter was being stupid, when either of them were actually, and that system involved the winds making a general nuisance of themselves and Cam being an especially vindictive _asshole_ until someone got worn down and spilled.

He hadn't seen Tori, Dustin hadn't pestered him at all beyond a slightly worried look and open mouth before Blake had distracted him, which left Cam – who had to have been busy with more important things (which, for Cam, was pretty much everything ever) and Shane, who was usually the one to bug him anyway.

Except he wasn't. Like Hunter's little episode wasn't even worth a footnote, like nothing had happened, like Hunter hadn't _slipped_ and he didn't like it. It felt like they were talking around him instead of confronting him. Like he needed to be _handled_.

The thought makes him tense more, grinding his teeth and going on an aggressive offense that pushes Shane back toward the wall. He doesn't register Shane's eyes widening, isn't paying enough attention when Shane's eyes narrow, irritation flaring up bright like a warning, and regrets it when Shane finally uses his speed and element to his advantage instead of dancing back and blocking what he can't avoid.

The gust of wind knocks him back a step, cold and biting and Hunter snaps back to reality about the same time he realizes that Shane is _not pleased_ and then a series of three quick, brutally hard strikes hits his stomach and side and he's on his back one leg-sweep later, Shane's knee planted on his chest and Hunter's arm gripped firmly and twisted up in an unstable pin.

"Is there something we need to talk about?" Shane demands, sounding about as annoyed as Hunter had felt before he'd been knocked off his feet.

"Did you just use one of my moves?" Hunter asks, incredulous and failing at fighting a grin when he realizes that the answer to that is absolutely _yes_.

"Do we have a problem?" Shane asks, clipped and unwilling to be distracted. He's actually glaring. Hunter feels vaguely threatened.

"Do you?" Hunter counters, feeling the giddiness that had formed when he realized he'd forced Shane to use actual _tactics_ ( _his_ tactics, even) in a spar fading a bit.

"I'm not the one acting like a jerk," Shane grumbles. Hunter scoffs, twisting his arm free and jabbing roughly at Shane's open side. Shane rolls off of him, the force of the jab cut but that doesn't matter, Hunter rolls to his feet and half-crouches back, defensive with Shane smoothly rising back up as well.

"You're acting weird," Hunter tells him grudgingly, not entirely comfortable with the expectant look Shane levels at him as they circle each other slowly.

"Really," Shane deadpans. "I'm acting weird."

"Yes!" Hunter snaps, acting pre-emptively and darting forward, pushing off the ground hard and spinning to drive his heel down directly onto the sarcastic red. It wouldn't have been a mistake a month, or maybe even two weeks ago, but it is now. Shane's learned, slowly and grudgingly and through many, many bruises, that he can't take the full force of the kick. He doesn't have the room to dodge so he turns, spreads his arms and twists, foot planted on the wall he'd been backed into and lunges into the strike.

Hunter feels Shane's hands wrap around his ankle and knee, and then he's being jerked to the side, sent into an uncontrolled and unnatural spin, the pair of them twisting in the air before he's _slammed down_ , the breath knocked out of him, feeling unnaturally chilled from the mini-gusts that had propelled his body in the way Shane wanted it to go. His legs had been pinned in the interim, and now Shane's free arm was braced along his chest, the hair on his skin lifted with raised flesh from the defensive static Hunter hadn't unleashed.

This wasn't _supposed_ to be an elemental spar, those were strictly outside affairs, but damned if Hunter didn't want to do that again. The giddy feeling was back. Hunter didn't get attacked by the air ninja's element often, and he definitely had never gotten _manipulated_ by it before. Gratifyingly, Shane looked about as surprised as Hunter felt, even if he grimaced and firmly pushed through it to glare back down at Hunter again.

"How am I acting weird?" Shane asked, almost turning it into a sigh.

Well. Excuse _Hunter_ for not appreciating odd changes in behavior from the second-most predictable member of the team. He just so hates to be a burden.

"You haven't said a thing about it," Hunter answers, relaxing back against the floor. Shane's eyebrow rises, the other lifting himself up a bit.

"About what?" he asks dubiously. Hunter grunts, charges the air around them like he's going to call for thunder. Shane's head snaps up on a _stupid_ reflex that Hunter hasn't broken him of yet, and Hunter uses the distraction to jerk his body to the side, rolls them and uses his weight to keep Shane on the floor.

The first couple of times this happened, Hunter would have taken the chance to punch Shane's side and then taunt him and strike every time he failed to break free. Shane had never returned the favor, but he'd eventually gotten a hell of a lot better at never getting pinned, or at least not for long. Judging by his grimace, Shane hasn't forgotten.

"Stop being stupid," Hunter says instead, frowning down at him. "You know exactly what I'm talking about." Shane's grimace turns into another exasperated look that is completely unjustified before it suddenly clears.

"Is this about the water bottle thing?" It was close enough to the issue Hunter didn't bother to answer. "Blake – _and you_ – have both made it clear that issue was over with. I took your word on it." That much was actually true, they'd returned the next day and proceeded as normal. Cam hadn't acted any different, and Hunter had been the one to give Tori and Blake the chance to talk that day in the first place, only Dustin had been the one to keep giving concerned looks for the talk before his expression had cleared and he'd believed them.

Shane had taken it pretty much in stride as well, accepting the sheepish look and shrug and everything else had been interrupted by a goon. They'd taken care of it, as always, and if anyone did have residual doubts that had pretty much cleared it up. Even so, Shane always had made it a point to ask outright, no matter what Hunter or Blake (or Cam) told him in the interim.

"You don't know what caused it," Hunter tells him, brows knitting. Shane's eyebrows lift higher.

"Do I need to?"

"No," Hunter snaps, eyes flickering away in a controlled flinch. He hadn't meant to sound like that.

"Tell me anyway?" Shane asks. Hunter grunts, getting off of him and shaking his head.

"It's nothing. Just weird that you didn't ask," he mutters, about to turn and settle again except Shane's hand is on his shoulder again, grip firm.

"Yeah, see, that probably would've worked earlier, but now? This is the second time you've tried to kill me and I'm not really eager to go for round three."

"I wasn't trying to kill you," Hunter groused.

"I know," Shane answers actually rolling his eyes. "You're missing the point. It's obviously bothering you."

"It's not your business."

"You sound like a broken record and you're being a pain," Shane mutters. "Spit it out already."

"I'm not-" Shane smacks the back of his head.

"Something was bothering you. Fine. I get that probably had nothing at all to do with me. It bothered you that I didn't ask about it - and you're going to regret letting me know that, by the way – but fine, my bad. I'm sorry, okay? Now would you just tell me so I don't have to worry about you going all-out against me without warning again this week? We're set to spar one-on-one a _lot_ since you think Dustin's still mad at you."

"Why would I care if Dustin's still mad at me? Why would I care that he was upset at all?" Hunter asks defensively.

"Everyone cares if Dustin's upset," Shane points out reasonably. "And if you didn't care whether or not Dustin was mad then you wouldn't have _insisted_ he go against Blake."

"That is…not accurate. Stop taking assessments on us from Cam, the dude doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Cam knows exactly what he's talking about," Shane counters. "Also, Dustin's the one who said it, not him. _Hunter_ ," he growls, cutting off Hunter before he can say anything else. "Spit it out."

"There's noth-" Shane smacks the back of his head again.

"Out with it."

"Look, it's-" Another smack.

"Would you-?" Hunter jerks his head, knocking Shane's arm away. _"Stop it_." Shane gives him a patient look back, then lifts his other hand and smacks him. "Shane!"

"Hunter, look. I know it's-"

"You don't know anything," Hunter growls, tension worming through his shoulders, officially done with all of this.

"I know it's about Blake."

"What?" Hunter asks dumbly. The look Shane levels at him is a lot like the kind that teachers hand out. Exasperated, temper frayed but kept in check, a lot more understanding than any other reasonable person would be with the kid in the room nibbling on crayons and gluing things to the desk.

"You have gone out of your way since water bottle day-"

"Is that what we're calling it?" Hunter asks, mostly sarcastic but a little bit serious because it's the kind of thing they'd name it. They do that – turn innocuous things into _Big Deals_ to the point he's pretty sure they might have accidentally created a code just out of necessity to reference all of the Things that happen around their team. He's not sure he wants to be the cause of another Named incident.

"-to not have a single training session with Blake. Not one on one, and if we're practicing as a team you're either with him or rotating out to take care of maintenance."

"Cam needs the practice," Hunter protests.

"Agreed, which is why I didn't argue about this when you said it was what you were going to do an hour ago."

"…You were really gonna just let this one go," Hunter marvels, trying to wrap his head around the realization that Shane Clarke, the most well-meaning nosy ninja Hunter had ever had the misfortune of being targeted by, was actually going to just drop an issue – no questions asked.

"You pretty much sabotaged any chance of that happening, and definitely forfeited any chance of this happening in the future," Shane reminds him dryly, "but yeah. So, what's the deal? Are you two actually fighting? Because I don't think I'm a fan of being a replacement punching bag because you're upset with your brother."

"I'm not upset with him," Hunter corrects blankly. He blinks, then frowns. "And we're not fighting. Why would I side with him and refuse to face him during training if we were fighting?" Shane – the little shit - tips his head back and rolls his eyes up to stare at the ceiling in a dramatic bid for patience. _Then_ he sighs.

"The relationship between you two is both toxically aggressive and detrimentally co-dependent, to the point that when you two aren't actively harassing each other you're subconsciously adapting and improving to better serve the other and neglecting yourselves when it can't be justified as an action that serves to improve your counterpart. In light of that, the two of you actually fighting and causing a potential rift in your connection, combined with your extreme survivalist tendencies, would make actually clinging to each other through any situation that could serve to deepen that rift the only viable option to cope with the stress of being wedged apart."

Shane, Hunter realizes, has turned reciting lectures in a monotone feel like both light hearted sarcasm and heavily disappointed chiding. Hunter isn't totally sure he understood a word of it, but he _feels_ strangely vulnerable. And like more of an idiot? Which – what the hell.

"Don't _Cam_ at me," he hisses. Shane doesn't look back at him, pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his eyes tightly apparently a better use of his time.

"That's still not a verb."

"He forgave me," Hunter blurts out, quiet but rushed, with Shane's attention about as far off of Hunter as it was likely to get. He thinks he sees Shane's eyes open, but the air ninja doesn't move. "He," Hunter swallows. "He forgave me. He keeps forgiving me. Like I deserve it. Like I should always deserve it. I'm nothing but a threat to him."

"Woah, stop." Hunter does, gritting his teeth as the flow of words stops before it can even really start. "I get that you're pouring out your soul here but – seriously? Are you under a spell?"

"What?" Hunter grits out, a little startled to see Shane's right in front of him, eyes concerned and searching.

"Don't give me that. You're the one talking crazy," Shane huffs. "'Nothing but a threat,' how hard did I slam you into the ground?"

" _Excuse me_?"

"How about _brother_ ," Shane demands, ignoring him. "How about friend? How about confidante? How about role model, or guardian and protector, or _the only constant thing he's ever been able to count on?_ " Hunter flinches, acutely aware of how not-true that is. Shane doesn't miss it, eyes narrowing. "How about supporter? As in the one guy he doesn't have to prove anything to? You're his safe haven, Hunter, you're literally the only one he's never had to act around. I didn't even think you guys could _try_ to keep secrets from each other."

"That's-"

"Deny it. Do it. I dare you," Shane challenges, hand on his morpher. "I can get him here in ten seconds flat. Less if I hit the emergency beacon and say your name, I bet."

"You wouldn't," Hunter says, feeling inexplicably hunted. "That's for emergencies. Cam would kill you. _Blake_ would kill you."

"Not before he killed you, and Cam's a smart guy, he'll figure it out. Or he'll get over it," Shane's dismissal sounds about as much of a threat as Shane essentially _tattling on him to Blake_ does. "You really wanna try me?"

Hunter doesn't. He really doesn't.

"It's a dream, it's not real," he admits feebly. Shane's hand drifts away from his morpher a bit.

"It's real enough to make you _stupid_ ," Shane argues simply. Hunter doesn't have the energy to glare at him.

"I- I kill him. It's not always the same, but he always- he always fights and I always…. I'm not – he's not the one who's supposed to – but I…" Hunter trails off, sighing roughly and shaking his head. "It's not real, it's stupid."

"…Except it was real, once," Shane realizes. Hunter frowns, not sure why he didn't expect the red ranger to be insightful about this – avoiding so long had probably been a bad idea. He's almost positive he'd kicked in the red ranger's adrenaline and fight mindset, Ninja Storm's red ranger didn't miss much, and let go of even less. Shane was way past the point of being willing to step off.

"I didn't win," Hunter says, relieved and determined, needing that point to stick, to be the truth. "I didn't beat him." Shane considers him, smiling a bit when Hunter bristles.

"You did, though. You beat out Lothor, you came back to Blake, the two of you managed."

"I'm not –"

"I know who you're talking about, Hunter. But – Toxipod, that whole mess, you won. You're _free_ , as free as any of us are. You said Blake forgave you, right?"

"He shouldn't have," Hunter says bitterly, exhaling as he drops to cross his legs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Maybe not," Shane agrees, startling Hunter into looking up at him. "But that's not really up to you, is it? You can hold onto all the guilt you want like a maladjusted emotional goldfish, but that's not really going to make Blake change how he feels or what he says."

It was the truth. It was shit Hunter already _knew_ which just proved that this whole conversation was stupid and full of things he absolutely did not need or want, but…. Damn if hearing someone else, even someone who probably didn't know better, didn't make Hunter feel better.

"Think you have all the answers don't you?" Hunter asks bitterly, well aware he has more bite to his tone than is even remotely justified. Back to square one.

"I am pretty great," Shane agrees calmly, shifting to sit across from him. Hunter scoffs.

"You're an idiot. Why're _you_ the one I told this to? Also, 'goldfish?'"

"I imagine it's because Blake is the cause, and Tori's with Blake, and Dustin's not someone you like to talk heavy with. Telling Cam would've made you lose ground, and since you think you can wipe the floor with me I guess that makes me the best option. Plus, no one asks questions when _I_ show up with a bruise because you feel like being a jerk." All of these were facts, laid bare without grudge, and Hunter eyes the other suspiciously.

"I know I can wipe the floor with you and I could absolutely wipe the floor with Cam."

"Sure, buddy," Shane scoffs. "Keep telling yourself that. I'll be waiting for you here back in reality."

"I can!"

"I bet," Shane snorts. "For like maybe a solid minute. He's smarter than me, he'll adapt faster."

"Smarts aren't gonna matter when you're fast enough to not be stopped," Hunter huffs, crossing his arms, glaring when Shane stares at him. "What?"

"…I think I just realized why you're the one pretty much always getting injured," he mutters, holding his hands up with a grin when Hunter bristles in offense. "Nothing! I didn't say anything!"

"…Whatever," Hunter sighs, settling back, stretching slowly. "Are we done with this crap? If I have to share another heart to heart with you in the next _two months_ it'll both be too soon and a guarantee I'm going to punch you."

"You've already punched me," Shane points out.

" _With intent_ ," Hunter gripes, eying him. "Unless you're telling me you want me to punch you now?"

"Pretty sure I'm the one that put you on the ground twice, man," Shane smirks.

"That- reminds me," Hunter says, slow and thoughtful. "That wind thing. Were you lucky or could you do it again?"

"I could probably do it again?" Shane asks. "Why? You looking to get tossed?" He's already moving up to his feet, and now that they're not at each other's throats, tearing into and undermining every step, Sensei Watanabe wasn't exactly wrong – they are good at this. They learn from each other with much more skill and productivity than they could apart, and with Shane rapidly boosting his way through techniques he hadn't given thought to before or simply had never been able to apply, training was getting more… creative.

He'd been leery training with the winds for a lot of reasons – some of them even _good_ ones. He can't imagine where he'd be now though, if he didn't. He's pretty sure he wouldn't be as much of an adaptive fighter… but he might have had better control over his elements. Sensei Omino had been on to something when he'd told them that Wind ninjas were emotional. They certainly inspired Hunter to feel things – mostly exasperation, disbelief, and brief overwhelming moments of panic that were only ever topped by Blake doing reckless things.

It happened more often than Blake would like anyone to believe, but Hunter knows better. He _so_ knows better.

"Let's do it again," Hunter answers, ignoring the taunt. If nothing else, it'd be a learning moment for them both. It might even come in handy.

* * *

_~'~,~'~_

* * *

" _No!"_ Blake screamed, legs faltering at the worst moment and dropping him down to a knee when he should be charging forward. Hunter's mostly still, hands still gripped around the thick vine of the plant-insect monstrosity, armored chest still heaving up and down as he breathes. They're the most sure signs that Blake has that his brother is still alive as the fume cloud fades and he clings to the signs of life even as he struggles back to his feet.

It's a stupid move, charging forward like a bull when he can barely think, the fumes haven't cleared completely and there's something hiding in the smoke, something that sparks and burns, pushing him back when he tries to force his way forward anyway.

"Blake!" It's not Hunter, and Blake doesn't care, can't focus as he stumbles forward again, caught this time before his legs give out entirely, glimpse of red (too bright, not him, not who he _wants_ ) all he gets before he's being hauled back and his vision blacks out a little.

"I've got him," says another voice, _still wrong_ , and then he's being handed off to something green and gold. Slightly more tolerable, he'd never mistake those colors for – but he struggles anyway, he's wasting time, and the grips on his shoulders and arm only tighten.

"Let me go! I have to- Hunter!"

"Blake!" Red snaps again, the wrong red, and Blake doesn't _care_ except now there's four where there had been two, bright blue and yellow in front, almost blocking his view. He'd swing, he's so close to shoving past all of them, but his knee is killing him, his mind is scattered and Cam's grip has only gotten firmer. Shane hasn't let him go yet, either.

_Take a breath. Bide your time_.

He listens, stilling mid-struggle and ignoring the way Shane jolts a little when he overcompensates, grip loosening. Cam hasn't made the mistake, and that's the one he has to outwait. Patience.

"Blake," Shane says again, turning to face him. It's a luxury he can afford with Tori and Dustin at his back. _How lucky for him_. "Hey! Are you listening?"

"In case you missed it that thing has Hunter," Blake snaps.

"And since you obviously missed it, we're trying to get him back," Shane returns, fierce and clipped. "Now are you going to help or are you just gonna get yourself caught too?"

"Get out of my way and we'll find out," Blake answers which he knows is a _stupid_ thing to say.

"Dude," Dustin starts, body shifting to face him. Tori remains unmoved to his front, Cam at his back.

"No thanks, I'm not interested in making Hunter watch you die," Shane counters sharply. "I don't know where your head's at but get with the program or get out of here. I have a teammate to help and I'd appreciate it if you'd wake up enough to stop being a distraction. I'm not losing _three_ of you and Cam's got better things to do than hold your hand."

_Get your head in and focus._ _Patience._

It's harsh and biting even though Shane says it quietly. Altogether the kind of talk Blake expects from Hunter, not Shane. It stills him though, about as effective, and he settles back in Cam's grip. It doesn't ease any, which is aggravating but also smart, and Dustin and Tori take the chance to dart forward, cut a swath through the vines the creature is creating as well as they can.

"Are you with me?" Shane demands impatiently.

_I'm getting there._ Blake nods, tracking the way his brother is dragged further away, more vines winding around his legs, his chest, threatening to crush him like a boa.

"Cam, keep them free," Shane orders, the Samurai ranger releasing Blake almost immediately with a brisk nod.

"Right," he confirms, and then he's gone, blade singing as it cuts through the thick foliage, Tori and Dustin freed up to create an elemental barrage that walls off the monster's escape.

It's a standstill, though. Dustin covering one avenue of exit and Tori the other, circling in with Cam darting between them and stopping any roots or vines from reaching Shane or Blake. With his attention split, he can't cut his way to the center, not with the rate the vines are growing. But the monster is stuck all the same, nowhere to go that isn't covered by at least two rangers, and unwilling to root itself into the ground and make an open target for Dustin to uproot in a shower of earth and rock cutting it from underground.

"If I got you to him do you think the two of you could burn free?" Shane asks.

"Probably, it got really upset that we were zapping it," Blake answers. The only thing that had been more effective was Cam's samurai sword, but he was quite clearly occupied already.

"Okay, get as high as you can," he says. Blake doesn't question it, just jumps, using anything he can to do just that, not entirely surprised to find when he's hit his peak that Shane is slamming into his side, sending them into an uncontrolled spiral.

Or, not uncontrolled, he realizes. They're spinning, Shane's arms clamped onto his, legs drawn in, and Blake struggles to copy him under the onslaught of wind pushing him into a wild spiral. He's sure other things are being blown too but he's far more distracted by the energy sharp and cloying pushing around him.

Shane, when using his element – regardless of the reason, always made the air feel sharper to Blake. It was colder, an unnatural edge to the invisible gusts he could create marking it as motion with intent. It made his skin crawl.

Now, like this, Blake's skin itched. He felt tense, surrounded on all sides and under no control of his own, no solid ground or shadows to disappear into – just a whirl of motion that added to the frenzy going on in Blake's head. Only Shane himself, the grip on his arms, felt solid and stable. There was another sea of calm just outside, and Blake searched it out more by feel than by eyes before he realized what he was doing.

"Path of least resistance, right?" Shane calls and Blake can – _he's insane_. Blake can hear the grin in his voice as they spin in a tighter arc, but Blake's insane too because he just grins back and gives in.

It's incredible how much a feeling can change. Arcs of bright white-blue electricity lift off of him, surround him, surround Shane without connecting, stretching out before they disappear – spent before they could blitz out and strike. The very air is burning, and Blake's skin feels alive, charged and ready well before Shane lets him go.

He's not spinning; he's diving. Down and with a strange sort of precision and he has to do this carefully – so many ways this can go wrong, so many ways this can backfire. His eyes lock onto crimson armor, and his vision narrows and focus sharpens until he can't see anything else.

He doesn't see Tori and Dustin retreat behind Cam, doesn't see the Samurai ranger plant his sword on the ground and take a meditative stance that's become very familiar after a series of carefully planned training sessions. He doesn't feel the sharp whip-crack pressure of Shane's wind and doesn't hear him land beside the other three. He doesn't even register the familiar pull as his lightning tries to leave before he's ready to release it, finding their path and arcing toward it.

He barely sees the arc of golden light that slashes forward and curves around Hunter before there's an explosion of bright red flashes – curving in horizontal streaks and branching out before fizzling into the air before he's colliding directly into it, then blurring _through_ it, releasing all of his energy in a blinding flash that's more white than blue.

He can feel where he's hit Hunter though, a series of sharp shocks that easily mute into the rest of his body, buzzing just under his skin like pop fizzles on the tongue. They collide, and everything wrapped around the crimson ranger just disintegrates into nothing as they both stumble further away. It burns a little, but mostly it's refreshing, and he can feel Hunter's own lightning spider out into the ground. The hand on his arm, the right color this time, sends more of that static through him and he lets Hunter pull him up. Can see with just one look that Hunter is feeling the same hyper-awareness, the same sharp buzz.

Almost as soon as Blake's feet are under him comes the wave of noise, echoing and making the ground rumble with the force of it.

The sound is deafening.

The creature hadn't stood a chance, a smoking still heap ten feet away.

Blake hasn't felt anything that feels nearly so much like victory in his life.


	5. Social Navigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane has regrets, okay? He's allowed. Hunter does not have the time to hold the hands of boy scouts. Also, Shane and Cam trip over another mine.

"That was _awesome!_ "

The team is – giddy, Blake thinks the word is. They're back at Ninja Ops, and Blake was finally starting to feel the buzz under his skin start to settle. His legs were still shaky, but so far he'd managed to stay on them through sheer willpower and the occasional shock of Hunter's arm brushing across his making him straighten reflexively.

Inside the walls of Ninja Ops he let himself collapse onto a couch and listen to the others move and talk around him. It was impossibly easy like this. Dustin was on his third reenactment of the fight, complete with sound effects, and alternating between dragging Tori into it and bouncing over to hang on Hunter's side, arm firm around his shoulders or slumping against Cam, his narration never stopping as his hands make animated motions that threaten to knock off Cam's glasses.

None of them seem to mind. Hunter looks tired, and probably his ribs should get looked at – _oh_ , Cam's already on it. That was good then. Hunter was grumbling and batting at him in the process, the two of them sniping at each other. That was better. Hunter was okay. Tori was even starting to join in, helping Dustin re-enact the whole thing from the beginning for a fourth time for Cyber Cam and Sensei Watanabe.

"It was _awesome!_ " Dustin cries. Hunter huffs a laugh, and Blake feels a grin tug at his lips despite his best efforts. The only thing missing was-

"Don't you mean _we_ were awesome?" Shane asks, and oh, there he is. The arm hooking over his shoulder was familiar, even without the weight pressing against his back he recognized the presence looming over him. Hadn't heard him coming, but that didn't matter.

"So awesome!" Dustin laughs. Blake hums in agreement, but it's only because he tips his head back that he sees something is wrong.

Shane's frozen, tension in the shift of his shoulders, grin abruptly strained and countermanded by the flood of – panic? Guilt? In his eyes. Blake doesn't really think about reaching up and gripping his wrist and arm, keeping him in place as he tries to figure out what changed in the time from five seconds ago and now.

"Sorry," he says in the undercurrent of Dustin's loud enthusiasm. It takes another couple of seconds, Shane looking at him guilty and then confused before his brain gets with the program.

The thing about Shane, Blake reflects, is that he takes the kind of things to heart that Hunter and Blake both just tend to file away as 'Things to Know.' They didn't hold grudges – or, well, okay they _did_ but not from honest mistakes. They were accustomed to occasionally misreading the intentions of someone else. The consequences of these things varied by degrees, but generally (again: obvious exception aside) nothing happened that was worth holding on to when these mistakes happened.

And it _was_ a mistake, Blake had realized. Those first few days, weeks, with the team, that first moment when they'd all been so excited to convince Hunter and Blake to join that Shane's arm had come around him, the group had closed in on them – it wasn't anything unusual for a team to _do_.

Contact at the academy had been standard, but measured. Contact on Lothor's ship had been – that was entirely about intimidation. Marah and Kapri would get as close as they could, try to get status or a leg up or involved and flaunt their privilege to move freely to the ship as a whole despite nearly always flanking Lothor himself. Choobo had never hovered over them like Zurgane had tried to do, but he did over Kelzacks and it was easy enough to see if he'd been stronger and had a more stable position he'd have tried the same thing.

Even when they'd believed him, Blake had never confused Lothor's hands on his shoulders as anything other than a reminder: They were guests. They were indebted to him. He was stronger. He was helping them. He was always placed higher, sitting on a throne or up on a dais, and his grip was as much to push them down as it was to remind them of their almost tenuous place on his ship – even when he'd felt pleased with them it was patronizing.

So following in those experiences, assuming Shane meant anything as innocent or welcoming as 'friendship' toward the pair that had given him and his team and his sensei so much pain and grief and trouble hadn't even been a possibility. The _horror_ on Shane's face back then when he'd cottoned on had woken Blake up pretty quick.

And the thing about that was – once they'd figured it out it made so much sense. Stupid and naïve and straightforward to an almost frightening degree – like all of them were. And Blake had forgiven that and understood it and accepted it. But somehow, he stupidly hadn't thought to tell Shane that.

Stupid, well-meaning, observant, bull-headed Shane who would hold on to something like this and _never forget_. Never make the same mistake twice, considering his own ignorance forgivable only if he learned and never failed in the same way.

Blake hadn't even noticed the careful distance Shane had kept up to this point. He hadn't thought anything about Shane never approaching from behind him or clasping his arm or shoulder without being absolutely sure to telegraph his movements to the point it was – actually kind of painful to watch.

_Idiot_ , he thinks with a startling amount of fondness. No wonder he was so crazy – dude never let anything go. So it only makes sense that Blake would make a snap decision. He didn't want to have to talk about this – ever, so his only chance would be to fix it now, while everyone rode a high and Shane was willing to not draw attention to them.

He squeezed briefly, didn't let Shane's arm go at the gentle tug, and took great pains to telegraph his hand as obviously as Shane had been doing for months. Shane looks gratifyingly surprised, staring blankly at the hand suddenly reaching over to his shoulder, squeezing again, and Blake smirks at him.

"It's cool, bro. Don't worry about it," he says and looks away before the surprise on Shane's face can filter and morph into something else. The Winds were way too open about how they felt. Sometimes he just had to look away. Protect them with the courtesy of not seeing at all when they wouldn't guard themselves. He's saying _thanks_ as much as he can.

Shane relaxes, keeps his arm exactly where Blake puts it and shifts only so Hunter can collapse by Blake once he's freed from Cam. "All good?" Shane asks, and Blake can't explain it but he feels even better when Shane's other arm comes up and rests on Hunter's shoulder.

"Super," Hunter snorts, grinning when Cam shoots him an irritated look. Shane laughs. And that feels like _you're welcome_.

* * *

_~'~,~'~_

* * *

_It's a long sleeved shirt day_.

Shane isn't as surprised by this as he feels like he should be. It's been a couple days since the _Super Tornado Blitz_ attack as dubbed by an enthusiastic Dustin after many, many other shot down suggestions.

(He'd been adamant that everyone who took part needed a spot to shine in the name. 'Super' was becoming an increasingly common term within the team that was as much an acknowledgment as it was a pot shot at Cam's Super Samurai Mode. Generally, anyone on the team that wasn't Cam using it was a confirmation that they were battle ready or on the heels of a second wind. Dustin was starting to use it to describe anything Cam made, and to an extent it might even start serving as a code for 'Plans Made by Cam.'

It was almost natural that Hunter started using it as well, usually after Cam made a judgment call he couldn't actually find a fault with but wanted to disagree on principle or when he was irked. Shane mostly used it as another point of inclusion for the Samurai ranger. Mostly. He could admit that he sort of enjoyed riling up the tense genius as well and it helped that he knew Cam didn't actually mind. It was all in the way he got that tiny little smile and sounded especially smug after anyone used it – even when he looked like he was also about to smack them all down.

'Tornado' was basically self-explanatory, but Shane hadn't argued when the alternatives had mostly been the even more bland 'Air' or the sort of misleading 'Hurricane.' He didn't think he'd ever be able to call it a 'Gale' even if that was more accurate. With the amount of energy and the ridiculous levels of concentration it had took to keep them in motion and not lose his bearing or sense of direction he sure _felt_ like he'd made a tornado.

So of course 'Blitz' had been the honorable nod toward Hunter and Blake. The series of almost blinding flashes of light and the smell of burnt air – that was the first time Shane had ever felt his element get 'damaged' and _holy crap_ was it terrifying – had practically been enough. The actual, physical, deafening roar of thunder that had followed had really nailed the term home though. (There was definitely something to be said about a sound that rocked through a person more than the constant explosions they encountered daily. Made it extra special.)

So no, in light of that particular explosion he wasn't surprised to see Hunter with two layers of shirts and Blake with a jacket on. There wasn't a heat wave this time, but it was sort of an obvious pattern now that Shane had thought to look for it. Big battle plus excessive use of power equaled days of long sleeves. Mostly, Shane just watched to make sure they weren't moving oddly or stiffly.

He'd looked up a lot of things he never ever thought he would after that conversation. Thankfully, and frustratingly, a lot of the things that came with lightning strikes tended not to be a problem for Hunter and Blake. A natural side effect that probably half came from manipulating such things at a young age, and was covered the rest of the way by the incredibly adaptive effects of their power ranger status.

_Today's definitely going to be a henna day._

It'd be simple this time. They'd mostly stopped having to ambush the pair after the fourth or fifth time it happened. Points for the Winds, the Thunders may have been paranoid and focused but they had nothing on the Winds' natural exuberance and unrelenting perseverance. Also, Dustin tended to bring cookies, and the excuse and chance for them to do something else with their hands tended to help.

So far, Hunter's calm acceptance and Blake's quiet appreciation on that first day had been the exception, not the rule. But they'd also given up the pretense that anything other than henna tattoos would be achieved so Shane counted it as a win – grumbling and wary stares included. Lucky for Shane it was Roster Day, so Blake would be occupied (read: roped into) whatever outgoing plans Dustin had made for the two-hour block of their normal schedule that took up. With any luck, Tori might even manage to get their focus and complete some homework.

No one wanted a repeat of Sensei's lecture when it had come out that they were falling behind in their public studies. Or Cam's ever-so-loving and tender study sessions (which, by the way, were _absolutely required_.) Well, except for Hunter. But that felt more like a rare and bizarre blessing than something Shane should rely on as the norm. So.

"Are you going to use your words any time soon, or is that just not happening?" Hunter demands. Shane tips his head back to look up and shrugs a shoulder at the stare Hunter is giving him. Successfully pulled out of his thoughts he wasn't sure he even had an answer. He'd must have been caught staring at the other.

"I'm just thinking," Shane finally relents in deference to Hunter's stare steadily becoming more disbelieving and concerned. He was fine. It was the truth. He hadn't even been thinking about anything bad.

"About what?" Hunter asks.

"I don't know," Shane sighs. "I guess I'm just nervous?"

"You?" And that wasn't – Hunter shouldn't sound so incredulous. What was wrong with getting nervous? He could be uneasy. He could have his doubts. Or, well, no. He could but not about the important things but this wasn't important like a ranger battle was.

Except it was. It was more important, the most important, but Shane couldn't get ahead of himself. He'd done that before, and only just been forgiven for it. (And hadn't that been something? Earning that little moment from Blake had left him arguably shakier than the fight had.)

"Okay, so maybe that didn't come out right." Hunter starts and Shane realizes he hasn't said anything back. Out of it. He was out of it. "What are you thinking about?"

"When that vine creep had you. Did you think we'd get you free?"

"What?" Hunter asks, too blindsided by the question to laugh and too concerned to actually grin the way Shane can tell he wants to.

"What made you trust Lothor?"

" _What_?" Hunter demands sharper, abruptly cutting and much less amused. Hunter immediately holds up a hand when Shane opens his mouth and he's actually pathetically grateful. Shane doesn't know what kind of disastrous question he could ask that would actually top the one he just did. But he's sure right now he'd manage to find it. "No, not here. Get up."

Shane fights the urge to drag a hand down his face. Getting to his feet feels like a lot of effort. The cold, heavy feeling in his chest isn't getting any lighter the longer Hunter waits for him though so he does it anyway. He barely registers Hunter giving a goodbye to Blake and Dustin, hands in his pockets as he follows the crimson ranger out of Storm Chargers to wherever they're going.

He'd assumed it would be Ninja Ops but they're not streaking. Hunter's quietly fuming, walking a steady pace that Shane only matches because he's staring resolutely at the guy's shoes and he hasn't missed a step or adjusted his pace even when they approached a street. It takes him embarrassingly long to realize they're heading deeper into Blue Bay Harbor. If they hadn't walked into a store Shane might not have bothered to actually realize it at all.

He looks up when they cross the threshold into the hardware store properly. He can feel his morbid pessimism morph into morbid curiosity as he follows Hunter's determined strides towards an aisle that seems to hold nothing but lamps, lightbulbs, and air fresheners.

"Ocean Breeze?" he blurts out when Hunter finally stops, eyes unerringly locked on said 'fresh scent.' Hunter's gaze flick towards him in a quick glance, eyebrow arching and Shane probably should have kept his mouth shut except….

Hunter looks considerably less angry than Shane thought he should. He's not even glaring. Emotions have taken a back seat to flat out assessment.

"Finally back with me, are you?" Hunter snipes, snatching Ocean Breeze off the shelf and tossing it to him. Catching it is a reflex. So is catching the other three- no, _four_ – boxes that get shoved into his face.

"Why…do you want sixteen light bulbs?" Shane asks, only a little wary of the answer. The boxes proudly boast that one bulb will last over a thousand hours, four bulbs to a box, and Shane is still feeling too off-kilter to be anything but relieved when Hunter just rolls his eyes and keeps walking.

"What makes you think I want them?"

"You're buying them aren't you?" Shane asks, eyes narrowing when Hunter snorts.

"Nope."

"…Then why am I carrying four boxes of light bulbs?" Shane demands, following Hunter to another aisle, watching with mounting disbelief as he starts prodding alarm clocks with his finger. He grabs something digital after seriously contemplating a very old fashioned ringing clock and tosses that onto the growing pile in Shane's arms.

"I have no idea," Hunter answers on the heels of a laugh.

"They had baskets for this kind of thing up front," Shane grumbles, shifting the boxes around a little awkwardly until he wasn't in danger of dropping the air freshener anymore.

"I'm surprised you noticed," Hunter muses absently. Shane picks up on the grumbling easily, but he's pretty sure that's mostly because Hunter doesn't care if he's heard. Ah, to be a jaded youth immune to the judgment of your peers.

Shane kind of wants to throw the air freshener at him.

Truth be told he isn't exactly sure why he's still following Hunter around. It doesn't look like he's going to get answers to his questions or even that Hunter remembers them, _thank God,_ and he's not sure he particularly wants to get roped into whatever may or may not require sixteen light bulbs, air freshener, and an alarm clock.

Plausible deniability is his friend and he is going to ignore any and all uncomfortable realizations that he is the one people are answering to these days.

Plausible deniability and a very large perfectly healthy dose of constant mind-numbing denial.

"Hey you have your wallet on you?" Hunter asks, and Shane squints at him suspiciously, following him blindly into an aisle that has candy across from power tools.

"…Yes," Shane answers reluctantly. Hunter swipes the air freshener and alarm clock, then tilts his head toward the candy.

"Cool. Grab something and let's get out of here."

"…Is this a trap?" Shane asks, poking at a few bags and swiping the banana flavored chalk candy when Hunter makes a face at it.

"Does it matter?" Hunter grumbles, lip curling in judgment at Shane's candy choices.

"Sort of? I mean, a little. On principle."

"…It's not a trap, Shane." Hunter answers, rolling his eyes when Shane doesn't move and continues to stare at him. "What the hell."

"…You promise?"

"Wh- _yes_ ," Hunter huffs, and Shane grins brightly, carefully putting the banana candy on top of his alarm clock before turning on his heel. "Are you twelve?" Hunter demands.

"I feel like I've had a long day," Shane admits. For some reason, this appeases Hunter enough that the blond just accepts it and leads Shane toward the checkout. He isn't sure why, exactly, but he doesn't actually realize that he's buying four boxes of lightbulbs until he's already handing over the cash for it.

"Hey," he protests when Hunter swipes the bag, crossing his arms and frowning when Hunter arches an eyebrow at him.

"What? It's my stuff."

"Then why did I buy it?"

"I have no idea," Hunter tells him, almost grinning and throwing the bag of candy at him. Shane stares dumbly at his back for a long moment before tearing open the bag and pelting a tiny banana at the back of his head, popping another one innocently into his mouth when Hunter spins on his heel and walks backwards to glare incredulously at him.

The next stop ends up being the Bradley's apartment and it takes Shane even longer to figure out that's where they are. The building isn't one he's ever seen and admittedly he's spent most of the walk pelting little candies at Hunter to see which ones he'd catch and throw back and which ones he'd take the hit for.

Throwing one that had fallen and ended up in Hunter's shoe had been his best shot so far, and about that time Hunter had almost started taking him seriously. These kind of situations were probably the reason he still got those paranoid stares sometimes. He's pretty sure.

The apartment itself is sort of small and a little barren. There are two backpacks in the corner, and he can see a box spring with a mattress on top on the floor through an open door off to the side. A door Hunter goes through and opens enough that Shane can see there are two mattresses with box springs on the floor.

He refrains from saying anything about it when he sees the dismantled metal poles that had probably been elevating the beds beforehand propped up against the far wall. Sleeping preference, then, and not something else.

"Why am I here?" Shane asks plaintively after a couple of seconds wasted watching Hunter stand on one of the mattresses to put a lightbulb in the ceiling.

"You keep asking me these questions like I'm supposed to have an answer for you."

"You told me to follow you."

"I had errands to run," Hunter shrugs, stepping back to the floor. "You're the one who actually did it. Also, I wanted you to pay for stuff before I did this."

"Did what- _ow_!" Shane grimaces, rubbing his arm where Hunter punched him. " _Why?"_

"How about," Hunter starts, replacing more light bulbs throughout the apartment and tossing Shane the empty box. "You tell me what you were really trying to ask instead of edging around with extremely poor substitutes and moping in silence."

Shane frowns, focusing on the bits of broken glass he can see in the trash bin next to him instead of answering. The heavy feeling was back with a healthy side of raw nerves, and wondering why Hunter had what looked like a bunch of broken light bulbs in his trash was a decent distraction from that.

"It's one of those heart to heart questions you adore," Shane warns him, finally looking back up.

"Which is why I punched you. Now spit it out before I break a wall or something with your face." He sounds cheerful. Shane stalls by throwing another banana candy and staring in disbelief when it hits Hunter's cheek and drops into his palm. "I have tutored more mature seven year olds," Hunter tells him flatly.

"Was it Blake?"

"Hah."

"Do you trust me?" Shane asks abruptly. Hunter scoffs and Shane can see the exact moment the blond realizes it's a real question and not something else.

"I just spent the last ten minutes letting you throw disgusting cheap candy at me for no reason other than, I assume, boredom."

"Okay, so you find me annoying but it's not like that's going to hurt you."

"You have never been pelted with pebbles at fast speeds, have you?" Hunter asks absently.

"What?"

"Shane, I trust you," Hunter says frankly. It's so forthright and honest it's actually startling to hear. He's used to Hunter's voice getting quiet, almost awkward but still biting out the words as quickly as he can like a verbal strike before plowing on to a different topic altogether when he's serious. "Now what is this actually about?"

" _Why_ do you trust me?"

"Why are you an actually decent person?"

"What kind of an answer is that?" Shane demands.

"I don't know," Hunter scoffs. "What kind of a _question_ is that? I trust you because I do. Is this some kind of validation thing?"

"You didn't always."

"You earned it. You were – you _are_ incredibly annoying and occasionally confusing and kind of always stupid."

"Um," Shane starts, because he has seven incidents of Hunter being an undisputable moron from this week alone – to varying degrees of severity and he's pretty sure he's only had two. By Tori's count, so you know. Official. Hunter plows over him.

"But you earned my trust, Shane. I trust you with my life basically every day. How is this news?"

"Do you trust me with Blake?"

And that. Yeah. That gives Hunter pause. The assessing look is back, and then Hunter's entire posture is somehow different. It's strange, the differences Shane can spot in his teammates now. He can't explain it, really.

He tries not to think about it too hard because he gets headaches when he does, but he's found himself increasingly in the places he needs to be before he knows he's even supposed to be there. He could attribute that to his team, to Cam's dedication to communication, except for the pointless parallels he's been drawing between himself and Hunter since day one.

He'd been hyper-aware of how the two had always been in proximity to each other, how they had fought, how Hunter always seemed so much faster when he was getting in between Blake and a problem (monster or social). Hunter didn't act like there was a problem between the two of them, but then….

Well, Shane couldn't reliably say that Hunter would not ignore any personal slights for the sake of team cohesiveness, if not unity. They'd all come too far for the little things to eat at them too much. The problem with that was mostly that Hunter and Blake had become rather adept at considering _anything_ a minor annoyance and convincing themselves that anything affecting them deeply wasn't worth looking at.

And Shane had realized, after a bit of reflection, that wouldn't make them united. Not in the way he wanted them to be. Not in the way they should be. Hunter and Blake could respect them and like them all without actually trusting them. And that had become the crux of Shane's problem, the source of their difference.

Because he couldn't. He didn't want to. And he was starting to think they didn't either.

"Are you…" Hunter starts, then stops, relaxing completely and shaking his head. "This is about what you said to Blake, isn't it?"

_I'm not interested in making Hunter watch you die._

Shane doesn't shiver at the memory. He's been practicing. Hell, he's run it over in his head so many times he barely remembers anything else. "Alright, listen Boy Scout."

"Boy scout?"

"Eagle Scout, _whatever_ ," Hunter rolled his eyes. "Blake was in no position to make any kind of decision. It was a stupid thing, and a _rookie_ mistake, and I'm willing to admit that my situation didn't help that any. You stepping up and getting him back on track was a good thing. Did you manipulate him? Yeah. Did you give him a verbal slap? Absolutely. Did he deserve it? Probably, but the alternative was infinitely worse. This isn't something that's secretly eating at him, dumbass, so quit moping around like you're the worst person to ever person. Shit happens."

"…I'm not a scout," Shane grumbles, shifting awkwardly on his feet. Hunter scoffs, grabbing his arm and tugging him back out of the apartment, errands apparently complete. Kind of a bad host, in retrospect.

"And for the record," the crimson ranger continues, ignoring Shane's petulance. "Anyone who can snap Blake out of his stupid, make him listen, and watch his back? That's someone I'm definitely keeping around."

And yeah, that was okay, then.

* * *

_~'~,~'~_

* * *

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Cam asks, shooting an impatient look toward the door. "You're both late, by the way."

"Sorry," Shane chirps over Hunter's shoulder, followed quickly by the crinkle of plastic. Hunter shakes himself out of whatever stupor had frozen him in the doorway, quickly stepping in and to the side while shooting a mild glare in the air ninja's direction.

Shane looks smug, stepping calmly into the room. "I had a bit of hands-on meditation I needed to get done. I roped him into helping me."

"Hands-on?" Cam repeats. He risks a quick glance toward Hunter, who is giving Shane a look so mildly neutral that Cam knows he's just as confused, which is moderately comforting.

" _That's_ what you call meditating?" Hunter demands, when Shane's smile only grows and he pops something from the bag into his hands. "How do you even have any of those left?"

"Careful planning and moderation," Shane answers, continuing his trek into the room and looking over the various things Cam had set up. He looks approving, and Cam never thought he'd reach a point where approval from Shane Clarke was not only an acknowledgement that didn't feel patronizing but was also welcomed.

"Eating candy is not the same thing as meditating," Cam says clearly, hoping that he's off the mark. Shane blinks, looking down at his bag of – tiny bananas. Truly? Then looks back at Cam.

"Of course not. Come on, I'm better than that, Cam," he explains, picking out another small fake fruit. And Cam would – honestly, he would like to relax, believe in Shane's words and not look any deeper but it feels too easy, too soon. He's paying attention when Shane's smile grows. He's watching when Shane carefully considers the tiny candy. He sees the exact moment when Shane's eyes flicker up and lock on to a target – focus and determination aligning for when he flicks it with unsurprising accuracy.

Hunter, grumbling under his breath and glaring uneasily at the table, is not.

Cam's still mildly surprised when the candy hits his temple.

"Hands-on meditation," Shane announces proudly, holding the bag out to Cam in offering. "Candy?"

"How exactly is that meditation?" Cam asks in mild disbelief. He's not sure which is more surprising, that it actually connected or that Hunter doesn't do much beyond glare at Shane and throw the banana roughly into a bin.

"I don't know," Shane tells him glibly. "But I'm feeling pretty Zen." He really does look calm – calmer than he's seemed in the past couple of days. At least since that moment they'd managed to pull off a completely unplanned multi-powered attack.

He hadn't noticed in the moment, had only picked up on Shane's tension a day later in the way he carried himself. It was unusual, if only because he had proven himself adept at shedding any residual stress or hardship once a situation had been resolved.

As a team, together they were mostly easygoing. Amongst themselves, Cam had come to find that they were adept at keeping focus and avoided laying blame against each other. It was an invaluable support system; Cam had come to rely on that united front. A lifetime of being outside his own family, his own legacy, of growing to be the outsider under a banner that held his family's name – he'd understood the importance of it all and retained the bitterness of never experiencing it for himself.

He'd thought in the beginning that Tori exemplified that sense of unity. And in most ways, she did. Of them all, though, Shane was the one who had become most adept at balancing the weight of continuous risk and result and setting an example to the rest of them. Part of it was the way he conducted himself and the team in battle.

For Cam, personally, it was more about the way he conducted himself out of it. Cam had gone out of his way – made it a point, really, to mold himself into a specific role and keep the others as distant as he could. It was an action born as much from habit as it was judgment.

He'd found them, all of them, lacking in some way. Knowing he could do better but constrained by his father's disapproval and chafed. Handling all things technical had been as much a necessity as it had been simply _his_. It had become something he could control, contribute to, something he could prove he thrived in.

He had been essential, but not. Necessary in battle, and serving as a sentry of sorts, but not united with the team. Joined but apart – an outlier that served a function but was not standard.

It could have been so easy for Shane to fall into acceptance of that. Cam had even thought he had, for a while. He'd assumed the red ranger would tire of trying to bring him further into a team he already functioned adequately in eventually.

But he hadn't.

Cam hadn't realized it then, was barely grasping the concept now as he watched Shane undergo the same exact laborious tasks with Hunter, but it had meant much more than he could have imagined.

It also helped, Cam supposed, that Shane's attention had (eventually and over many irritating first attempts) become subtle. Questions that drew attention had become exchanged for brief, quiet moments that were so smoothly handled even Cam sometimes wondered if they occurred – either alone or during boisterous distractions.

Somewhere along the way Shane had started paying less attention to his words and more attention to his actions. He'd always been physical. Like Dustin, Cam had become resigned to the intrusion of his space. Unlike Dustin, however, contact with Shane was brief or gradual – it had become more about the solid presence at his back and less about physical connection.

If Shane hadn't accepted Cam's self-imposed barrier when he'd had arguably more reasons to keep his distance and Shane's focus off of him, Hunter and Blake – as active rangers and critically combat-essential from the beginning - didn't really stand much of a chance.

Which is not to say that Hunter wasn't trying his hardest anyway.

"I'm going to grab the darts now," Hunter says abruptly. "Throw another one of those at me and I will retaliate."

"Take your shirts off first," Shane says and Cam sets himself to meticulously filling up another henna cone.

"Excuse me?" Hunter says flatly. It's no question, and Cam isn't too terribly surprised when he glances up to find Hunter glaring at the paste that he is currently holding.

"They've returned, haven't they?" he asks anyway, tempering his voice to be pointed instead of biting. He doesn't have to specify, the way Hunter crosses his arms and rocks back on his heels is answer enough. "This is hardly a new routine."

"So why are you here?" Hunter demands.

"Seriously?" Shane asks incredulously, eyebrows raised. He waves his hand sarcastically over the table, and the bench Cam had moved closer, and flicks his eyes briefly over to the dart board that had switched walls, all of which clearly indicating how obvious he found the answer to be.

That hadn't been the question, though. And Cam deliberately sets down the half-filled cone, meeting Hunter's eyes despite the reluctance burning through his veins and the chilling warning in his head telling him not to.

"I'm only setting them up," Cam explains evenly, refusing to look away. Shane shifts, hand leaning on the table, but that's all the attention he can spare before Hunter continues with, "You were planning on staying."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Wow," Hunter scoffs, and Cam feels just unsettled enough he has to grit his teeth when Hunter starts to smirk. "You are a really terrible liar, Watanabe. Is that all you have to say? Please don't tell me that's the best you can do. You had to have been taught better than-"

"I have _better things to do_ ," Cam cuts in quietly, feeling himself withdraw before Hunter can even get started, "than waste time painting over the visible reminders of your complete failure at control."

He can feel Shane's eyes on him, but he doesn't look away. He knows – he is perfectly aware that was an unreasonable thing to say. Hunter has little to no frame of reference on the Cameron Watanabe who lived at Wind Academy – couldn't possibly _know_ that Cam wasn't and would never have been allowed to be a student.

That didn't make having it thrown in his face – by _Hunter_ of all people – easier to bear.

"That," Hunter starts, blinking once in a slow, deliberate motion. "Is extremely rich, coming from the guy who made an unstable AI after _basing it on himself_."

"I have more projects than Cyber Cam. And let's not pretend fooling you is any great hardship."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't require lectures from someone who almost got his entire legacy corrupted and lost by believing a dark ninja instead of his eyes."

It's a peculiar thing – watching the emotion drain from Hunter's expression. It's a fast, surprisingly subtle process. Cam hadn't realized how open his expression had been before until he'd been given the blank-eyed frozen stare he was now confronted with.

"And I don't need censorship from an ignored legacy hidden away in the shadows like a _disgrace._ "

"Perhaps," Cam says evenly, feeling the strain of holding himself still, "but I didn't have to be borrowed to follow either of mine."

"And I'm a near-failed one that got incredibly lucky hijacking and profiting from the literal destruction of my seniors and peers," Shane cuts in methodically. Cam startles, head swinging toward the air ninja. He'd maneuvered himself between the two of them without being noticed, stance deliberate and deceptively casual against the table.

"Congratulations," Shane added. "None of us are perfect." The look Shane sends him is calm, patient and as concerned as it is assessing. He doesn't look frustrated or angry or surprised at either of them. It's… awful. Cam flinches first, dropping his eyes and looking away, swallowing thickly.

"Hunter," he continues. "If you want Cam to leave, literally all you have to do is say so. Cam," he adds, waiting until Cam grits his teeth and looks up again. "If you want to stay, _say so_. Now _children_ ," and there it is, the faint bite underlining his forced calm, "are we done?"

That much, at least, is incredibly patronizing. Doubly so in that it actually feels effective.

"If you wish me to leave, I will," Cam says, knowing he'd escalated this, lashed out without control. Hunter isn't looking at him when he risks a glance, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It's fine," he finally answers, gathering up the darts for the board before he even tries to approach the bench, setting them out deliberately in a line. "Do whatever you want," he mutters, hesitating just long enough to be noticeable before he strips off both shirts in one motion.

"What, don't have something else to say?" Hunter demands, and Cam has to pause before he realizes that the blond is talking to Shane.

"I said it already," Shane answers, shrugging a little, "I'm feeling Zen." Hunter grunts, meticulously picking up each dart and throwing them with unerring accuracy across the room, dead center and then an outward spiral. He's out of darts before Shane gets a single line applied to the blond's shoulder and Cam doesn't think, he just moves, pulling out each one as meticulously as Hunter had thrown them.

Hunter spares him a single surprised look before he's tossing them again, and again Cam returns them to him. He isn't sure if Hunter's testing his patience or his willingness or just trying to relieve some of his own tension with the activity, but Cam keeps at it, grimly determined to at least outlast Hunter's restlessness and give him an outlet.

The next twenty minutes are strained with silence before the obvious tension in Hunter's shoulders ease, his head bowing and fiddling with his last dart instead of tossing it again.

"Have either of you even ever done this before?" he asks after another ten minutes during which Cam had carefully grabbed up a cone and started applying geometric patterns to the mark branching down his other arm.

"Nope," Shane answers, head tilting thoughtfully. "I promise not to draw any more hearts though. This one didn't turn out that great."

"Wha-" Hunter's head snaps up and Cam flicks his shoulder without thinking, barely letting himself pause when he realizes it and narrowing his eyes instead.

"Stop moving. This isn't too difficult but I don't want to mess up." Hunter meets his eyes, not quite as hostile as he is defensive, before opting to roll them. Cam leans back and glances over Shane's work, and honestly it looks like he's mostly just tracing directly over the marks and making tiny… triangles? At the ends of them. "There are no hearts. Just misshapen lines."

"…You mean he can't even trace?" Hunter asks slowly, eyes narrowing more as his head turns back slowly to regard Shane, obediently not twisting half around to take a look for himself. "Seriously? It's _tracing_."

"It's _art_ ," Shane huffs. "And you're moving a lot. Maybe you wouldn't have to worry so much if you'd stay still. You don't move this much with Tori."

"That's because Tori will scrape it off and start _over_ and that just makes me look like I have some kind of rash," Hunter grumbles. Cam grins reluctantly, Shane snickering softly on his other side. It was an unfortunate truth for the blond, who'd had to deal with Dustin's sympathies in addition to Blake's ruthless comments and Tori's own unimpressed countenance.

Apparently, the aqua ranger had held no sympathy for the older Bradley after dealing with him fidgeting for three hours straight.

The following hours are actually spent in relative peace. Cam takes comfort in the stretches of quiet, and Hunter's acquiescence, the two of them as back to even footing as they were likely to get and Shane content enough to smile through all of Hunter's critiques. He eventually explains his complacency with an "I don't have to wear it," which nearly makes them resort to the road rash solution again anyway when Hunter tries to swipe at him.

It's not really necessary to continue past Hunter's arms and shoulders – the crimson ranger rarely wore anything less than a tank top when he underwent this situation, but Cam's eyes had picked out a pattern near his shoulder blade that was unmistakable once he'd seen it.

It might have been incredibly presumptuous but….

Well. He'd already spoken without thought. He may as well act to try and make up for that.

"Nice," Shane says, eyes catching the work when Cam's halfway through, having overtaken Hunter's wrists mostly by virtue of being the only one willing to risk getting poked by the sharp end of the darts. Cam nods in agreement, then frowns when he sees Shane start drawing…something. On the other shoulder.

It looked like an oval with squiggly lines coming out of it, and if it weren't for the jagged arrows sticking out of the top Cam might have dared to label it a poorly marked sun.

"What…is that?"

"It's…" Shane's head tilts. "Supposed to be an insect."

"A beetle?" Cam asks dubiously.

"A thunder beetle," Shane clarifies sheepishly and both of them startle when Hunter groans and puts his face in his hands.

"You two are making me nervous."

"It's not…" Cam starts, mouth twisting in consideration. "A road rash." Shane chokes, caught between amused and offended, patting Hunter's knee after a couple of seconds.

"It'll be fine, buddy. It's nothing bad."

"' _You_ don't have to wear it,'" Hunter mocks, groaning again when Shane just nods along.

"And we'll never forget it," he agrees. "But hey, you'll like Cam's."

"…Cam drew a thunder beetle?" Hunter asks warily, head lifting slowly.

"He did me one better," Shane answers, sparing a quick reassuring look to Cam before he snags two mirrors, positioning one behind Hunter and handing the other to him. Cam shifts further away, bracing himself this time, as Hunter positions the mirror in his hand until he can see the reflection's reflection and then freezing again.

"Is that…?"

"It's the Thunder Academy's insignia," Cam confirms quietly, stilling under Hunter's stare – piercing and sharp and feeling his breath catch when he watches it soften.

"Thanks," Hunter says quietly, setting the mirror down carefully and curling his arms up like he wanted to reach for it.

"So," Shane cuts in, poking at the multiple empty cones on the table. "We all good now?" He sounds teasing, but there's a weight to his eyes that Cam can't deny, and he nods after sparing Hunter a brief look of his own.

The crimson ranger pauses, sharing a look with Shane that Cam can't interpret before he's smirking.

"The troupe's doing great, Eagle Scout," he reports, delighting in the way that Shane immediately glares at him.

"Great," Shane grits, and Cam takes that as his cue to get back to his feet, start picking up the used supplies. "Because we didn't actually get to the training roster thing, and our time is up. I'll need you two to figure that out tomorrow."

"And what, exactly, will you be doing?" Hunter asks archly.

"Studying," Shane answers – which is a surprisingly reasonable response.

"At the skate park?" he asks wryly, eyebrow arching high at Shane's wounded look.

"Funny, Cam. No. In my _room_ , to get it _done_. You think all I do is skate?"

"Is this a trick question or just a trap?" Hunter asks, and Cam is surprised to realize Hunter's actually asking _him_.

"Assume it's a trick. He's too impatient to lay traps," Cam advises, relaxing a bit more when Hunter brightens.

"You two are the worst."

"Nah," Hunter drawls, leaning back carefully, looking expectantly up at Cam.

Well. He'd hate to disappoint.

"We're super."


	6. Everything's Better with Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter's issues aren't what they look like. Blake's 'support plan' sort of gets away from him (it's not his fault). Now with 20% more Dustin.

So.

About the Cam thing.

That was… mildly uncomfortable.

Unexpected. Also, stupid. But.

Hunter probably should have seen it coming.

It wasn't, strictly speaking, a problem sharing space with him. If Hunter had become adept at anything it was compartmentalization. He was perfectly capable of working with the Samurai ranger. He could ignore the undercurrent of constant unease that came with being around Ninja Storm's tech support and newest (in relative terms) ranger.

He supposed that was part and parcel of the problem.

He was perfectly capable of working with any of them. They were the ones searching for more. Dustin he'd expected (and maybe, a little bit, hoped for - he could admit he might have found some traces of guilt if he dug deep for it). Tori had been a pleasant surprise. Blake had been too relieved for words when she'd accepted him back – twice, really. To see his efforts at making amends actually pay off had been nice.

Shane had been strange. He'd been accepting of them, like a switch was flipped, but only some of the time. Take everyone else out of the equation and Hunter could clearly see Shane dropping his arm or hand on Blake, leaning into him with a grin, had even been subject to it himself a few times, Shane's hand squeezing his shoulder out of nowhere.

He'd chafed under it, feeling like it was a restraint. Moreso when the others were added to the mix, and suddenly Shane's regard turned from friendly to tense. The survivalist in Hunter understood the caution. The older brother in him bristled at the double standard towards Blake. The ninja training overlaying all of that respected the attentiveness.

And then it turned out he'd just been giving the air ninja too much credit. He'd been the one to urge Blake to confront the guy, preferably before Hunter resorted to doing something stupid like punching him in the face outside of training.

Blake had taken the (mostly) joking threat seriously – and, okay, Hunter could admit they had gotten a little ahead of themselves. In his defense, cultivating an ability to see power plays had served him well in protecting his brother in every case except being taken in by Sensei Omino and that one. Majority rules: He wasn't stopping any time soon.

Turned out Shane was just a friendly guy who was trying to balance his responsibilities with the addition of some new friends. And really, who could possibly have known that?

…Who, with Hunter's history? Shut up.

Cam, though.

Of everyone in Ninja Storm, Cam had the most working for him in terms of status and by extension the least working for him in chances of Hunter ever being _comfortable_ in his space.

Cam's space, by the way?

Ninja Ops. In its entirety, as far as Hunter is concerned, by means of location and what actually happens there. It was their headquarters, it had a connecting bay for their zords which he fixed, it was where they trained and discussed plans and gathered intel.

It was also his home. Home, not shelter, not base of operations – his home was Ninja Ops. Below the ruins of his father's academy, the place where he had unquestionable control and ability – the place he was most familiar and comfortable with.

The place Hunter had invaded under his own power and of his own volition.

He understood better than anyone how it felt to have that sense of safety violated.

So he'd taken steps to return as much of that as he could. Steps that ranged from not entering Ops without at least one of the Winds already there to being _nice_ (as nice as he could, some things didn't just get turned off) and at least hearing the other out when he chose to speak.

The teasing had come as a response to Cam's own sarcasm. Just because he felt guilty didn't mean he was going to just lie back and let someone harass him. None of it had been mean-spirited, and Hunter had assumed they'd continue on and be professionally acerbic to each other.

Then Cam had made him an off-hand promise Hunter couldn't overlook or ignore.

So the scar thing had been clumsily handled, Hunter could admit that. And maybe he hadn't seen the end result coming. But he'd been prepared for Sensei Watanabe to become involved and he had been ready to shoot down any offers of help. It was stupid and petty and prideful but the Thunder Academy had been a sect dedicated to their arts, to secrecy, to their techniques and their legacies.

Preserving that felt like it was the only thing he could do until he managed to release all of the students held captive on Lothor's ship. Explaining to Wind Academy students a potential downside to improper use of thunder techniques was acceptable given that it was the only way to allay their concern of outside attacks being the cause. Allowing them to learn the intricacies of Thunder teachings and training was not.

The thought of being prodded about why a stance or attack was a certain way or how one technique differed from another was so immediately invasive Hunter had felt physically ill.

That the candidates for that exact scenario had been Shane and Cam hadn't made it better. Except then Cam had promised to keep it as surface-level as possible within reason – and had _committed_ to it. Sensei Watanabe was different, probably more knowledgeable in their techniques than they were as a ninja master, and it had been a relief to know that Cam wouldn't use the opportunity against them.

(The worst part might have just been that Hunter wouldn't even be able to hold it against Cam had he tried. Information was power. Gathering information was Cam's passion. Hunter was just as familiar with both of _those_ things as well.)

It had been an unlooked for kindness that Hunter had yet to repay. Maybe, he could have avoided the brief… disagreement, they'd had if Hunter had tried to pry for more information about Cam's experiences when the Wind Academy had been prospering. Except that was just as incredibly invasive, and had no bearing on the present, and Hunter hadn't expected to ever actually _care_.

He'd been aiming to _tease_ not _insult_. He hadn't even realized he must have touched a nerve until that brief moment before Shane had ground them both to a halt. (And Hunter didn't have the story on _that_ , either. What did that even mean – 'near failure?')

He hadn't known how to take the sudden knowledge that the henna thing wasn't just a Tori-and-Dustin thing, but apparently a big enough deal to also be a Cam-and-Shane thing when necessary. He's starting to think there's a certain weight of expectation being passed around that completely flew over his own head.

If that was the case they should stop expecting normal-people responses from the emotionally maladjusted orphan. And the emotionally constipated (apparent) outcast. At the very least it put the Samurai thing into perspective. And hey, Cam _owns_ that, while also schooling the rest of the winds in various ninja skills (which he also was apparently _not_ allowed to learn, like _at all,_ which- what?) so really he shouldn't be letting the weight of history bear so heavily down on him.

Which is something Hunter is _never_ going to tell him, but it's something he believes.

And all of that? Discounts the fact that Cameron Watanabe is Kanoi Watanabe's son.

Yeah, shocking surprise, he knows.

Also, important to remember. It's a fact he's constantly aware of – and maybe it's just because of his history, his experiences, but being the sensei's blood meant there was a certain expectation in how the rest of them were supposed to act.

Dustin, by himself, had almost completely shattered those expectations in literal seconds and they'd lessened their formality by _a lot_ in response, but that didn't mean it wasn't still in the back of his mind. A small weight constantly pressing down on him.

"Your thoughts appear to be weighing even heavier today, Hunter."

Exhale slowly. Inhale evenly. Exhale again. Open eyes.

"I'm not meditating as well as I'd hoped," he admits ruefully.

"Successful meditation depends on the goal just as much as the method," Sensei Watanabe notes. Hunter smiles briefly, inclining his head and dropping his eyes. He isn't surprised to find the ninja master seated serenely before him. This isn't the first time he's been ambushed by the guinea pig while trying and failing to meditate.

"Sensei often told me I lacked focus."

"And do you?"

"Well," Hunter starts, shoulders lowering slowly and leaning forward a bit instead of rubbing the back of his head like he wants to. "I don't feel any different now than I did then, so I suppose so."

"What was your goal?"

"I…don't know," Hunter admits. He takes another measured breath when Sensei Watanabe doesn't respond, patiently waiting for Hunter to find a more adequate answer. Or maybe just a more truthful one. "I think I wanted…to find an excuse," he continues cautiously.

"For actions that have occurred?" Sensei Watanabe prods. Hunter can't make himself meet that expectant stare, bowing his head again.

"No, Sensei," he murmurs softly.

"Ah," Sensei Watanabe says. And that's all he says.

This is where, Hunter has found, he and Sensei Omino differ the greatest. Hunter can't imagine, even if he were stuck as a guinea pig, that Sensei Omino would stay motionless for this conversation. He'd circle, assessing physically from every angle, or take Hunter to walk with him on well-worn paths while he lectured. He wouldn't maintain this silence, easy and considering. He wouldn't wait Hunter out.

"It would be a mistake," Hunter says softly, after too long spent staring at his hands, at his legs, slowly lifting his head again. "I know that."

_But I want to do it anyway._

"And which can you see more clearly?" Sensei Watanabe asks. "The negative repercussions from the outcome, or the current benefits it would allow you to gain?"

Hunter pauses, startled. It was a good question. One he hadn't expected and one that brings a cascade of images to the forefront of his mind. Blake and Tori – the way his brother had seemed more steady, solid and happy after talking with her despite the rough way he'd handled himself before then. Dustin – exuberant and hopeful and _always trusting_ in the good of intention instead of doubting in the person committing them. Cam – struggling to come to terms with himself without dishonoring his family, unintentionally providing an example for Hunter to follow.

Blake – the expression on his face when he'd caught sight of the 'tattoo' Cam had put on his back. Shane – the look on his face when Hunter had told him he was trusted. And Shane again – the frustration he'd feel, the self-blame he'd lay trying to find a misstep he hadn't actually made if Hunter withdrew. Blake – confused, and then grimly accepting, divided and making a decision to follow Hunter's choice, or stretch himself thin bridging a gap Hunter would be deliberately trying to widen.

Blake – making the decision he'd always made because it was always 'them' first and everything else second.

Himself, bereft of everything creeping in around him that was good just to maintain the status quo, to keep what he knew he could rely on even when everything else was ripped away.

Could he do that?

"I'm afraid," he whispers, swallowing thickly, grip tightening on his knees until his knuckles turn white.

"And does your fear of what you see outweigh everything else?"

Did it? Hunter lets out a ragged breath, grip tightening harder and shutting his eyes tightly. He could see it. Accepting this, accepting them – the team as a whole, in his life, in his heart. But he wasn't a fool. He could see patterns just as easily, his parents ( _twice_ and how was that – how could that _possibly_ be -), his sensei and teachers, his home ( _twice again_ ), and wouldn't buying into this happy-team bullshit just be an invitation?

A welcome mat for ruin and that cruel witch Fate to traipse on in and tear them all away again? He could barely hang onto Blake. Trying to hold on to Dustin, to Tori and Cam and-

Was he _capable_?

He wanted to be. By all the anger and bitterness that fueled him, and the fierce aching pride he held in his brother and the fragile cruelly painful hope that sometimes bloomed deep in his chest and left him breathless with eyes that burned – he wanted to be capable of having that. Keeping them. This. It.

"I… I don't want…to make this mistake," Hunter says slowly, shaky and uneasy with the admission. Panicked, a little, looking up, scanning the room, and giving Sensei a helpless look. Sensei stares with his simple, implacably calm control right back.

"I have found," he starts simply, "that lessons borne from some mistakes can only be best understood by experiencing them."

"…Experience…?" Hunter repeats softly.

"Particularly, when those lessons involve trust," Sensei Watanabe nods, watching quietly, and Hunter blinks as the brief helpless panic that had been clawing at him abruptly… stops.

Experience. He'd already experienced it. Hadn't he?

He'd already lost. He'd already had something worth losing stolen from him forever. He already had people and things actively working against him to take more. Did he need to add himself to that list? Just to go through what he'd already been through and blame himself?

Did he really even want to?

"…Thank you, Sensei."

_No._

"But I think this is a lesson I've taught myself enough."

_No, he didn't._

"I think it's time I tried something new."

He could try this. Try a - … try them. _Choose_ them.

Sensei gives him a look filled with pride, guinea pig smile and all, and Hunter smiles back, slow and embarrassed, ducking his head. Feels his fingers twitch and a shiver work through his shoulders.

And if he loses this – loses them. Well.

That'll only be because he fell first.

* * *

_~'~,~'~_

* * *

"Hey," Dustin greets. "Are you okay?"

"Yep." Blake doesn't look up from his bike. The routine maintenance is familiar, their bikes were finicky and needy and demanded near-constant love and attention as payment for the streamlined fun and almost perfect performances they gave their riders.

"Are…you sure?" Dustin asks.

"Yep."

"Because you don't really look okay." Blake pauses before setting the spoke wrench down, tipping his head back to eye Dustin. "You don't," he insists a little sheepishly, rocking back on his heels.

"What do I look like?"

"…Not okay?" Dustin tries.

"What kind of not okay?" Blake asks, patting the ground next to him. Dustin plops gratefully down, accepting the spoke wrench without a word and starting the process of checking Blake's spokes all over again.

"Angry," Dustin answers after he settles into a methodical rhythm, grateful to have something to do with his hands while he talks. "But not like wrath and doom angry. Like. Stressed angry. The kind you get when you make cupcakes for the fourth time and they still get all sad and melt in the middle even though they shouldn't have." Still good, but not really goal accomplished.

"All of the cupcakes and muffins you gave us were delicious, Dustin," Blake says loyally. Dustin smiles. Can't help it. Everyone had praised them despite the flaws but Blake and Hunter had practically devoured an entire batch by themselves before the others could even take a second one. Neither of them had ever really acted like picky eaters but it was still nice to see all his hard work hadn't gone to waste at all.

"Thanks, but that doesn't really tell me about the stress-look," he returns. He can feel Blake stare at him, and he lifts his eyes just long enough to smile brightly at him in response. Blake was a lot like Cam. Always thinking, even if he talked a lot more and smiled the same way Dustin used to before he'd had Tori and Shane around.

He's pretty sure he sometimes weirds Blake out when he talks about the guy's thinking faces instead of the smiles he hands out. He tries not to do it too often. He'd found, through experience, that people that wore smiles did it so they wouldn't have to think about other things. Sometimes, though, he can't really help it. Like today, when Blake's thinking face had started to turn a little sad around his eyes even though his smile only grew bigger.

Wasn't a good look. Dustin had tried to tell him once, but he's pretty sure that conversation had just confused Blake. And then _Dustin_ had been getting thrown thinking faces more, when he'd been trying to get smile faces, and that had just been frustrating. It had been like spoke maintenance. Except instead of loosening Blake's too-tightness he'd only made it tighter. Bad stuff.

He'd started to think he'd really upset Blake but the apology he'd tried to give had been interrupted. There was a distinct difference between Blake's real smiles and his face smiles. The real ones, like, bloomed. Like those sped up videos of flowers growing, all small and kind of hidden and then suddenly _there_ and happy. And Dustin had admittedly been kind of staring because it was incredible and there was like no reason for Blake to not smile like that _all the time_ (at least, around them there wasn't) and Blake had said:

_"_ _You're a good guy, Dustin. Don't apologize for that."_

Dustin hadn't really been trying to apologize for that but he'd also sort of figured that everything must have been forgiven if Blake was gonna go around giving him a look like that. And he'd been right. Sort of. Apparently Blake was the kind of guy that needed about a week to process things that 'changed his perception.'

Whatever that meant.

The point was he didn't mind Blake staring at him for a long time without saying anything. It had been a little awkward, but it didn't happen often and there were worse reasons to be stared at then showing concern for a friend. And Blake _was_ his friend. No doubts about that one ever again.

He's finished all three cycles on the rear tire and has to nudge Blake with the spoke wrench so he can reach the front one. He's not sure Blake is going to answer him today, might have to wait for tomorrow, but then Blake sighs and rests his head against the plastic on the bike and shuts his eyes.

"Have you ever… been annoyed? That someone's done something for you?"

"Like give a gift?" Dustin asks, frowning a little as he tightens a spoke and has to loosen another. This tire was worse than the other one. Blake must have started on this one before Dustin had decided to talk to him.

"No, not exactly. Like. Imagine Shane taking you out to eat your favorite meal and paying for all of it."

"Sweet," Dustin says, doing just that. It had happened a few times, usually for his birthday before – everything. Very nice. Blake smirks at him.

"Try not to drool on my tires, man."

"Hey, no drooling," he promises, wiping quickly at his mouth just in case. "But, uh, maybe you should think of a less delicious scenario?"

"What if," Blake continues, rolling his eyes, smile blooming quick and brief before fading again. Dustin dutifully tallies himself a point. He's found that for his friends the victory isn't in how long a good thing lasts but how often he can get a good thing to happen. "What if Shane did that for you every day for a week. For two. Three, never letting you pay him back, never listening when you tried to pitch in. Over and over again?"

"Oh," Dustin frowns. "That'd be…less sweet." The thought would be nice, for sure, and he doubted Shane would even think twice about it – Shane was a nice guy like that, but every day? It hovered a little too close to things Dustin didn't like to think about. He'd want to do something in return, at the very least, show he appreciated it but that it wasn't necessary. Like it was….

He'd heard once that real friendship couldn't be bought. He'd found a lot of truth in that. And not even being able to pay Shane back for all that stuff he'd done? It wasn't good. It made him feel uneasy, uncomfortable in his skin. Why would Shane be buying him a meal every single day, anyway? Was he worried? Did Shane think that he couldn't take care of himself? Why not just ask?

"Dustin," Blake says, and Dustin looks up with a harder frown. Blake's eyes are kind though, and the squeeze Blake gives his shoulder is more comforting than anything else. "Shane hasn't done anything like that."

"Yeah," Dustin agrees, blinking a few times, feeling the tension in his stomach ease up a little. "I know," he affirms. And he did know, but it was kind of nice to hear it said anyway. Besides, that was how _Blake_ was feeling right now. Like he wanted to appreciate someone but couldn't, because they were too busy doing all this other stuff for him.

He didn't speak fluid Blake, but he was getting a lot better. Hunter was easier to speak; he had no idea why Shane had so much trouble. Then again, he seemed to understand Blake better. Best friends, if they worked together they could totally solve the Bradley Equation.

…Best friends…

"That's it!" Dustin snaps his fingers, grinning wide and pointing at a startled Blake. "I know what we have to do."

"You-what?"

"Charms!" He declares, grinning as he continues his maintenance. Wouldn't be cool to leave Blake hanging just because he figured out what to do.

"Charms?"

"Yeah, man. Like, tokens. World's Number One Dad mugs but for friends."

"What?"

"Friendship necklaces. And bracelets. With beads, you can make those."

"Okay," Blake starts, holding a hand up. "Shane was a bad comparison. I was talking about Hunter."

"So?"

"…Do you _know_ what he'll make me go through if I make him a-" he made a choked sound. Probably just now realizing the awesome that was Dustin's plan. " _Friendship…bracelet._ " Poor guy looked like he couldn't believe the words that had come out of his own mouth. Dustin wondered if he'd ever got the chance to make one.

Probably not. Well, then, no wonder he looked so spooked.

"Don't worry. They're basically impossible to mess up."

"Dustin, I'm not- I can't…" Blake puts his head in his hands, slumping further when Dustin pats his back.

"We'll do it together," he promises.

"We'll what?"

"Make it a team thing."

"What?"

"I'll help you make Hunter's."

"What."

"You're on your own for Tori's though."

" _What?_ "

"And _I'll_ make one for Cam and Hunter can make one for Shane and it'll be great!" He beams at Blake, patting his shoulder again when the guy just stares blankly at him. He's used to that too. "It's about the little things," he explains, and Blake pauses, head tilting to the side before he sighs.

"Yeah, alright," he agrees, shaking his head. "For the little things."

"That, my little friend," Dustin says, grinning hugely to avoid the hard shove people usually get when Blake's eye twitches like that, "is the spirit."

* * *

_~'~,~'~_

* * *

"I don't know what's happening," Hunter declares, staring at the mess of beads and paint and strings and wire and ribbon decorating the table.

"I wish I didn't know what's happening," Blake grumbles next to him, wincing when Tori smacks his shoulder and gives him a disapproving look.

"I think this is a great idea," she says, solid in her support of Dustin's endeavors.

"Why am I here?" Cam asks the room at large, head turning to Dustin when the earth ninja clasps a hand onto his shoulder.

"Because you belong here, obviously," he answers, plopping down on a seat next to him. "It's craft time."

"Craft time?" Hunter repeats. Blake breathes in deep next to him, and when Hunter looks his eyes are shut and his head is tipped back.

"We're making 'team' bracelets," Dustin says seriously, nudging a clear tub of beads that have letters on them toward Hunter while staring right at Blake. "Tori can help you if you don't know how."

"I know how to make a bracelet, Dustin."

"Great! I'm gonna help Blake." Hunter opens his mouth, closes it at the fractional twitch Blake's fingers make.

"Blake?"

"How did you even get all this stuff?" Blake asks, poking around the paints curiously.

"I told you, man, I'd take care of everything," Dustin says with the kind of serene reassurance that meant they'd had a Conversation about this.

"This was _your_ -" he starts, turning to grill Blake with the beginnings of unparalleled _glee_ bubbling up inside of him. Blake's grim, determined calm was only making it better.

"Friendship for everyone. Spreading good will and true love one cute little ribbon strip at a time," Blake answers deadpan. He glances up, the beginnings of a glimmer in his eyes that means he's gearing up for a pre-emptive strike. Hunter doesn't care because this is a golden opportunity.

"You're making one for Shane."

"What," Hunter blinks, eyebrow arching at Blake's sudden grin.

"Assigned friends."

"Assigned – doesn't that defeat the purpose?"

"It would if you and Cam weren't allergic to all things sweet and cheerful."

"Please," Cam says, already bending wire and painting it, apparently resigned to this happening and determining the best way to get through it and out in one piece was to participate. "Don't drag me into this."

"Why isn't Dustin making Shane's?" Hunter asks, mostly out of curiosity.

"Because I'm helping Blake," Dustin says, frowning at the table as he searches for something. "Didn't I say that already?"

"I am having a lot of trouble with context right now," Hunter tells them.

"You're making a team bracelet for Shane," Tori says, no-nonsense tone firmly in play as she grabs a handful of beads and starts to sort them into little piles in front of her. "You should start with the ones that have the air symbol painted on them." She holds one up before he can ask, and Hunter doesn't even have to squint to see the clearly well detailed symbol painted with care onto it in a bright red.

"Who-?"

"Sensei," Dustin answers brightly, Cam pausing long enough to send the yellow ranger a surprised look and then reaching for the beads himself, quietly contemplative. White beads with yellow, red, blue, and green, were mixed in with black beads with blue and red painted on them and all of them had their own unique symbols inscribed on it.

"My father did this?"

"Yep."

"Well," Tori says, kindly sliding a small pile of beads toward Hunter. "We'd better not let all of his effort go to waste."

* * *

~,~'~,~

* * *

"You're late," Hunter greets him, right before something hits his chest. Shane catches it before it can fall, but he's still not entirely sure what to make of it. A quick look to the table that the team is all sitting at helps, a little, in that there's suddenly a reasonable explanation for Hunter to have been holding a string bracelet with little beads to pelt him with at all.

The why is still up in the air, though.

"Sorry," he says. "I got a little caught up at home. What'd I miss?"

"The power of love and unity," Blake answers brightly. "Also, Hunter pouting. So good timing."

"He made you a friendship bracelet," Dustin cheers when Shane drops into a chair next to him. Shane's eyebrows lift, and then he takes a closer look at the bracelet that was tossed at him. "What do you think?"

"It's… not what I expected?" Shane asks, blinking down at the words that spell out OK!GUY! with some stars and swirls mixed in. It's really not. If he'd been told Hunter had made him a _friendship_ bracelet he'd have expected paper with a list of things Hunter finds annoying about him rolled up and then stapled shut. 'OK Guy' was much better than he'd have hoped for. "Thanks," he smiles at the blond.

"It was my fourth try," Hunter informs him deadpan.

"I'm not surprised. Bracelet making is hard. You must have been out of practice," Shane tells him sweetly. Hunter smirks back, makes a finger-gun at him, and then startles before he scrambles and tackles Blake to the floor with a strangled shout.

"Fifth try!" Blake gargles out, the pair of them wrestling on the floor.

"And we were cohabiting so peacefully before you got here, too," Cam says almost mournfully. He's sporting a green bracelet on his wrist, but Shane can't see much more than that and bits of yellow.

"They've been behaving all day, I'm a little surprised they lasted," Tori grins, waving her fingers at Shane and showing off the bracelet on her wrist. It's white and blue, but when he looks closer he can see that the actual string is red, yellow, and blue braided together.

"Nice," he notes.

"Blake made it."

" _Nice_ ," Shane grins happily, flicking a bead at her before rooting through the options on his own.

"Blake, can he breathe?" Dustin asks concerned, and Shane glances over to the pair briefly (not surprised at all to see the rainbow of colored beads decorating Dustin's wrist, or the rainbow of string decorating his other one) and is a little startled to find Blake staring directly at him. Determined. Focused. A little breathless, but at least two of those things were required at any given time when dealing with Hunter, so….

"Don't care," Blake pants, throwing something hard and fast. "Fifth try."

"Ow," Shane tells him, wincing a little when the beads smack into his shoulder, catching the second bracelet before it falls.

"That was the actual fourth one he made," Cam says in a quiet undertone next to him.

The first thing it reminds him of is a yin and yang design. Half of it is white beads, and when Shane looks he can see the drawn (had to be personalized, with the deliberate mimicry, though who had done _that_ in such intricate detail he had no idea) symbols of air and the Wind academy alternating every other until it runs into the black beads, the same red paint with the Thunder academy insignia and what was undeniably the Crimson Thunder mark.

He puts it on carefully, smiling a little when the red string holding it all together has a bit of give, twisting it around slowly before glancing up around the group as a whole.

"Thanks," he says seriously. Hunter shrugs a little, looking away and preoccupying himself with pushing Blake off. Shane isn't too surprised to find that he's sporting a bright yellow and blue bracelet himself. Tori and Cam seemed to have moved on to ornaments or something like it, using the ribbons and wires to create small pins and patches. Shane takes the chance to nudge Dustin's ankle, looking at the other with a grin of his own. "Help me get started?"

Dustin's grin widens, and Shane makes a point to grab some of the green ribbon to wrap around the wire he's intending to make, grinning at Cam's quiet huff of breath next to him.

"Can't slip one by you, can I?" he asks quietly, Dustin dutifully searching out beads that had their ranger symbols on them.

"I don't know why you'd try," Cam tells him back. "Who's that one going to be for?"

"Who else," Shane answers, frowning a little before flicking a bead at Blake, hitting his cheek and delighting at the startled blink he gets from both of them. "Get up here. We've gotta make something for Sensei."

"You were late, why am I taking orders from you?" Hunter gripes, pulling himself back up to a chair.

"Because it's a good idea," Tori laughs, knocking her shoulder into his. "And we didn't think of it."

"Dibs on the blanket," Blake says, swiping scraps of ribbon with a determined look.

"We're making him a blanket?" Cam asks uneasily.

"No, _I'm_ making him a blanket. You're making him a pillow."

"I am?"

"Hunter will help."

"I will?"

"Hey," Shane cuts in, moving aside so Dusting can overtake the pillow operation and assist Cam and Hunter. If anyone's smoothing _that_ plan out, it's Dustin Brooks. "Sensei's got to have something, too, right? Guinea pig or no guinea pig."

"You don't think he's been suffering quietly all this time, do you?" Blake asks, head tilting to the side.

"He has his own chair and television. And cable," Cam points out. "I doubt he can really qualify as 'suffering.'"

"But he's also way Zen," Dustin adds, meticulously picking things from the table and layering them, frowning a little. "What if he's been stoic about it like Hunter when he gets hurt?"

"And the day was going so well," Hunter mutters without heat, sounding more resigned than anything.

"Then we'll do the same thing we do for Hunter," Shane decides, dropping his arm over Dustin's shoulders and squeezing quickly. "Pay attention and make it better."

"It's the little things, Dustin," Blake adds, smiling slowly. "Right?"

"Yeah," Dustin agrees, and the grin on his face is honestly Shane's favorite, wide and unhindered, excited and blisteringly _happy_. It's a deceptively rare look.

Shane can forgive just about any transgression ever to someone that puts that kind of smile on Dustin's face.

Scanning the team is reflexive, at this point, he's fallen into a near-thoughtless habit of doing fairly regular check-ins of the group. It was a little too easy for things to go sideways without warning for him _not_ to, but for now it was obvious that everything was fine. In fact, it took him a second sweep to realize just how much _more_ fine it all was.

In his defense, he's pretty sure he'd never seen Hunter or Blake as relaxed as they are. Backs to an entrance, Hunter arguing lightheartedly with Cam but ceding the final say to the Samurai ranger, Blake meticulously sewing strips of ribbon together that Tori handed to him, and not a single bead of tension in either of them. Moreover, they weren't even unconscious or dog-tired and injured to act it.

_Little things_ , Blake had said. Shane glanced to the side; he considered Cam who had as pleased an expression on his face as Shane had ever seen while Hunter grumbled and started folding little scraps. Looked to see Tori with a smile that was as grounding as it was satisfied. It was easy, in light of all of this, to let himself feel optimistic, revel in this even if he hadn't orchestrated it.

If they could do this, be this, then Shane had to be doing something right. He could take this, they all could. And that was the brightest hope spot of all.


	7. The Way We Fit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're not a proper storm without a little thunder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I keep trying to write/imply action things. I'm really quite bad at it. Ah, well, needs-must and all that.

The dangers of having a routine mostly lay in complacency. The dangers of having a winning streak lay in overconfidence. The dangers of having your life constantly threatened and scraping by intact lay in arrogance. The dangers of relying on a pattern lay in disruptions of expectation.

As far as adaptability went, they excelled more than most. Quick thinking and haphazardly created plans were the status quo. Judgment calls had to be made, rapid-fire decisions had to have follow-through. Sometimes, sacrifices had to be taken into account. Occasionally, the consequences for all of these things was heavier than expected.

Hunter understood that.

Shane had made a judgment call, Hunter had followed it, the team had agreed. He could hardly blame the red ranger for that, or anything else that had followed. Monsters, dark ninjas, alternate dimensions, creepy parasites and different challenges specifically designed to push them were all a part of the daily routine.

They were all Lothor's playthings. They were a group dedicated to reacting to the threats that Lothor presented them, growing at the rate he wanted them to, cultivating their abilities in creative ways that will ultimately serve to feed Lothor's never-ending lust for power and control. He'd been in service to that man, lived on that ship, long enough to understand that. Losing or winning wasn't really a concern.

If they won, when they won, it was just another step along the path of progress until Lothor deemed them worthy enough to steal from directly. If they lost, it was a nuisance out of his way and no longer hindering his end goal.

Hunter understood all of that as well. Which is why, even if he could not and did not blame Shane for making a hard call or anyone else for following through, he would and must blame himself. Not for failing. Not for losing. But for becoming distracted. For getting soft. For not being fast enough when he should have been, not being aware when he knew better, and for not paying the price he deserved when his slack finally brought about retribution.

Not every outcome could be foreseen. That was why he trained. The reason he took the time and effort to prepare at all was specifically so he could handle those unpredictable outcomes.

And he'd failed in the worst way and couldn't even pay for it.

"I've registered another low burst of electricity."

"Thank you, Cyber Cam," Hunter says softly.

"Hey, Hunter," a dim flash of light, Cyber Cam stands across from him. "I won't stop monitoring him. You can get some sleep. I'd wake you as soon as anything changes or a bigger burst than the standard ones he's been pouring out occurs." Hunter doesn't answer, doesn't move.

It was an absurd request even if he understood the offer.

This was his penance though, weak as it was.

If Blake was going to be trapped in his dreams for thirteen hours because of Hunter's own incompetence, then the least Hunter could do was sit with him until he came out of it.

* * *

_~'~,~'~_

* * *

"We need to get rid of this fog!"

"I can't do that trapped in this box. I need a window or an outlet, otherwise it's just going to swirl everywhere."

"So our options are leave it alone and let it poison us slowly or agitate it and let it filter into us faster?"

"Lovely day for aesthetic, right?"

"You two aren't helping."

"Can we crack the cement? If we break it up, I can access more earth. Tunnel out. That'd create a hole, right?"

"And if you can't get out?"

The answer had been obvious. Dustin would die underground, probably faster than the rest of them stuck above it. Hunter's assessment had been on point, painfully so, despite the urgency of Tori's declaration. There'd been an explosion after, one that rocked the strange block cell they'd been caught in. The sounds of Cam fighting alone, searching for them or trying to bide time for them to get out of their own mess.

Damn it.

"This has to be filtering in from somewhere."

"It's filtering in from everywhere," Shane had answered. Short and clipped, distracted by the tingling burn around his calves, slowly rising higher. The fog had been helpfully colored a dark violet, swirling around them and reaching higher, zapping over their suits when they moved. They couldn't even pace as an outlet.

It was easier to see now, the cracks near the top of the complex that let the fog pour in, though it had taken them ridiculously long to actually hear the mechanical hiss. Blake had been the one to bring it up, and Shane had followed the thread to its logical conclusion.

If there was any chance that the thing pouring poison gas in was mechanical, there was a chance that the Bradley's could take it out. The hunch had paid off and they'd done it. The resulting trail of explosions had cracked in the wall. They escaped. And that's about when Shane had probably made his mistake, pushing forward to help Cam instead of actually checking in with the rest of them.

It had slowed them all down, even if the relief efforts had saved Cam. Their reaction times had slowed, their legs numbing steadily and it was more instinct and reflexes that had kept them on their feet by the end.

"Pause playback."

Shane sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly and shutting his eyes as the video stops, seconds before everything went from not great to really bad and trying to will away the person behind him. They hadn't stuck close enough together and even with Hunter reacting first with their limited time and space he hadn't made it to Blake in time. If Shane had positioned himself better, let Tori and Dustin be Cam's support instead of taking that spot himself, he might have been able to stop the parasite from latching onto Blake's back and sending him into the artificial sleep he was currently in.

"Do I have to remind you that he's going to come out of it?"

"Didn't I tell you to get some rest Cam?"

"He's going to come out of it," Cam repeats quietly.

"I don't doubt it. You've been working like crazy to make sure it would happen. I just… need to make sure it won't happen again."

"Is that what you're doing?" he asks doubtfully. Shane grunts noncommittally. Hands press down on his shoulders, sudden and surprising but not unwelcome. It's easy to tip his head back, look quietly up at the Samurai ranger.

"We'd be lost without you, Cam," he sighs, meaning it as much as he can when he feels the way he does.

"You'd be lost without Tori."

"And Dustin," Shane grins wryly, not nearly tired enough to argue with such an obvious fact. "And Sensei."

"And Hunter and Blake," Cam finishes, squeezing his shoulders. Shane's a little surprised the other hasn't let go yet, but mostly he just leans back into the touch, frowning down at the frozen image before Cam reaches over and shuts off the monitor. "They're not lost yet. We still have them."

"You know Hunter and I had a conversation once?" Shane asks, rolling his eyes a little at the repressed humor that twitches at the corner of Cam's mouth. "Shut up. We did."

"Without your fists?"

"Not the point," Shane groans, lifting his hands to cover his face.

"Sorry," Cam replies, reaching up to grab his wrists and slowly pull his hands away, sitting in the chair next to him that had been brought there specifically for Dustin to use so he wasn't standing for hours on end when he was trying to focus on things Cam was doing. "What were you talking about?"

"He told me that Blake had forgiven him for something terrible." That whole conversation, the one that had led to the Super Tornado Blitz even being a possibility in Shane's mind, it felt like so long ago now. Different things had come along and pulled his attention away. "And that he didn't want to accept it because he still held himself responsible. You know I didn't really understand that feeling until today."

He hadn't understood at all. He'd known that even when he was reassuring Hunter. He hadn't realized just how that feeling could twist up inside, though. Eat away slowly at his barriers until the guilt was all that was left and he didn't have any leg to stand on. How being told there wasn't even anything to forgive was somehow worse than being forgiven because at his core Shane _knew_ there was so much he wanted to be forgiven for, wanted to fix, and wanted to hear.

"What did you tell him?" Cam asks. "Back then I mean?"

"That it was kind of a jerk move to hold onto something Blake wanted to move past and that if the guy that has the right to hold onto a grudge is letting go than you should probably not insult them further by ignoring that. More or less," Shane answers, giving Cam a knowing look when the other's eyebrow arches.

"Sounds like good advice."

"It can happen," Shane agrees, dragging a hand down his face again. "I'm going to take it. In a minute. I just-"

"Want to wallow in your misery? Haven't you done this before?" Cam demands, startling Shane into looking at him again. "Taking on every problem by yourself isn't going to stop bad things from happening to other people, and it isn't want makes you a good leader."

"Aw man, do we really have to bring Mad Magnet back into this?" Shane gripes, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You remembered its name?"

"It was kind of a learning moment for me," Shane admits without reluctance. It was the truth. He'd sort of learned _a lot_ in that one confrontation. He tended to learn a lot in the space of a few hours these days.

_Little things._

No shame in admitting he hadn't known something before, so long as he could say he knew it now. Maybe a bit of rue, but not shame.

"Well then there you have it," Cam says, in tones that Shane finds more reminiscent of Tori. He smiles reluctantly, giving Cam a grateful look that probably makes the green ranger uncomfortable. Cam deserves more credit though, because he just tips his head and smiles back.

"Speaking of emotional competence…"

"She's with Dustin," Cam answers, "and I'll tell her you think so."

"She already knows," Shane chuckles. "They're alright?"

"Tired and a little numb," Cam confirms. "I promised I'd round you up and send you off for Hunter if they got themselves to sleep. I don't even think I made it out of the room before Dustin was snoring."

"That's not how Tori put it, is it?"

"She was very worried," Cam answers diplomatically. Shane hums, leaning back in his chair and stretching slowly, sighing deeply. That's about as far as he gets before the light flickers and Cyber Cam's voice is telling them, "Hey, something weird is going on with Blake," and Shane doesn't even listen to the rest before he's propelled himself forward.

He slams into a few of the walls on the way, stumbling on turns, but he makes it in seconds and almost gets hit with an arc of lightning for the trouble. It's as much a stumble as it is a drop that sends him to the floor, processing Hunter braced grimly over Blake, gripping one hand tightly and cradling the other toward his chest.

"It's fine! He's fine," Hunter snaps, and _déjà vu_ didn't that sound familiar. He takes Hunter's word on it this time though, eying the painfully bright and loudly buzzing lights above them fluctuating with every arc of blue lightning that lifts off of Blake's arms and shoulders.

"What's happening?" Shane demands, approaching cautiously.

"Nightmare," Hunter answers shortly, wincing as Blake jerks and rolls. Shane doesn't think when he grabs him, grunting in pain at the tingling burn it gets him before the lights flare brightly again and something shatters. He curls automatically, covering Blake's body with his own and hisses as something hot and sharp slices down his shoulder.

"This happen a lot?" He asks, shifting so Hunter can get at Blake's hands again and tries to ignore the soft litany of words the blond is saying. It's not for Shane to hear really. Plus it looks like it's helping, Blake settling slowly, shuddering a few times and twitching toward Hunter. Shane helps them adjust, Blake settled down on the mat, but Shane feels for his wrist anyway.

"His pulse is a little fast, but it's evening out quickly," he says quietly.

"Cyber Cam?"

"Shane's right, dude, vitals are evening out. And despite that major light show he's still reading normal. The electrical pulses have evened out, too. Back where we started. And hey, uh, Shane? You should get your shoulder looked at."

"An entire fight goes by and you manage to get hurt two hours _after_ everything's settled," Hunter mutters quietly. Shane huffs, settling back a bit and keeping his fingers over Blake's pulse – more for his peace of mind than anything else.

"Yeah, well, my bad dreams don't really come like this," he replies.

"What? You mean you don't explode lightbulbs and come out swinging," Hunter scoffs gently.

"I've had some skateboards fall on me," he says, looking over his shoulder and wincing a bit at the length of the cut. It's long but it's shallow, and he prods at it carefully until Hunter bats his hand away and comes over to look at it himself.

"It's just a superficial cut you baby," he declares, feeling around it carefully. "The glass burned you, so you're not bleeding. Take another look in an hour or so, though. Also, _skateboards_?"

" _Sixteen_ lightbulbs," Shane shoots back.

"Been eating at you, huh?" Hunter smirks, entirely too knowing.

"You ever consider moving into Ninja Ops?"

"You want to talk about this now?" Hunter asks, prodding lower down his back and declaring him mostly cut free.

"Why not? I'm not going anywhere," Shane points out, settling carefully, and sitting back a little bit. He looks down, frowning a little as he checks his bracelets, though both of them look intact; he fiddles with them anyway.

"You don't have to stick around," Hunter says. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I know."

And he did know. No one had doubted that Hunter would stick around for Blake, though they'd all sort of hoped the crimson ranger would at least try to sleep once they'd gotten a time limit on the strange coma-affect from Cam. No dice. Shane wasn't surprised, but that didn't mean Hunter had to go through the depressing sight on his own.

Heck, Shane had just been _doing_ that. Hunter gives him an odd look, one that gets weirdly surprised and then skittish when he sees the bracelets on Shane's wrist. He manages to hold out for a full hour through meditation and checking on Blake.

"You're actually wearing those?" He finally asks. Shane doesn't blame him – seeing Blake's chest rise and fall was the second most reassuring constant in the room.

"I never stopped," he admits. "You made them for me, remember? Why wouldn't I wear them?"

"They're friendship bracelets, you realize. And literally the only thing it says is 'Ok guy.'"

He sounds so put out about it.

"Could be worse," Shane reminds him. "You could've put 'Red guy' or 'Eagle Scout.'"

Hunter huffs a soft laugh that's mostly just a sharp exhale with a brief smile. "And," Shane continues, thumb sliding gently over the other one, his favorite one, "Only one of them says that."

His favorite, because the more he thought about it, the more he could see what Hunter had put into it. His favorite because it put him on the same level as Hunter. His favorite because it was an admission that Hunter believed in something within Shane as much as he believed in himself and his power. His favorite because it said:

_This is Wind. This is Thunder. This is Air. This is everything I am and everything we are. This is where we come from and where we'll be. And together this is worth something whole and worth wearing._

Because it wasn't created on just a whim, it wasn't something made to fulfill a requirement and be done with it. This was four attempts from a guy who habitually needed to do something once and did it with precision and perfection. And it was sincere, because Hunter tried to hide the things that were important, that _meant_ something, that he wanted to protect and if it hadn't been for Blake Shane would never have known about it at all.

Hunter would never ask, but Shane would tell him that if he did. He wore the bracelet with pride, because even if the meaning was his own interpretation, it meant that much more to him in doing so. He'd never dishonor that by hiding it or how much he liked it.

Either Hunter hadn't been paying attention, or more likely, he'd deliberately blocked it out.

"I don't know," Hunter counters quietly, and this time he isn't looking away. "I think it probably still says that."

That and so much more.

"Yeah," Shane agrees, smiling himself. "I think you're probably right."

* * *

_~'~,~'~_

* * *

The silence that surrounds them after that is tranquil, soothing in the best of ways, and Shane loses himself to exhaustion and worry and the occasional panic when it looks like Blake is going to have a nightmare again before Cyber Cam thinks to inform them that Cam had the power redirected away from the room they're in before the tech had turned in himself.

Less chance for explosion. What a relief.

Blake wakes up exactly when Cam said he would, complete with groan and a stupid, "So, guys, you're great, but waking up to the both of you hovering like this makes me feel like I missed something important and also my back hurts. What's up?"

"I am going to hurt you," Hunter snaps, clasping his hand lightly with Blake's until the other tightens his grip. Testing crush grip, Shane's learned. Blake's fingers flex, then squeeze again, harder, and Hunter pulls him up carefully. Shane mimics the slide of Hunter's hand from Blake's shoulder down his back and ignores Blake flicking his knee with a finger.

"I'm good guys," Blake mutters, rolling his eyes as he goes through a laborious stretching process. He doesn't see Blake or Hunter sleep often – they're great at holding off on crashing until they're home and out of sight and now Shane knows why – but the few times he had he'd never really known what to make of the slow way they woke up.

Generally speaking, they were completely focused and aware the second their eyes snapped open, but they were always slow to actually move. Nightmares bad enough they reflexively use a fighting technique explained that weird discrepancy a little better. Shane had gotten hit exactly once by Hunter's lightning unmorphed and had to do the same stretches before he could feel all of his fingers and move his arms right.

The thought of being paralyzed in his sleep wasn't all that pleasant.

"You've also been asleep for thirteen hours," Cam tells him from the doorway. He spares the guy a tight smile, and Cam acknowledges him with another head tilt.

"So deal with it," Hunter finishes, making sure Blake moves slowly instead of giving him time to process that.

"I don't feel _that_ rested," Blake says blankly, frowning at the three of them.

"Considering the three separate times you almost blew out the power in this section of Ninja Ops, I'm not surprised," Cam says simply.

"And speaking of Ninja Ops," Shane says over Blake's wince, ignoring Hunter's disbelieving glare. "You guys should consider moving in here. Right now. And then accept. Immediately."

"May I ask why?" Blake asks pained. He rolls altogether far too fast to his feet, and transitions his stumble into a turn and hop, kicking slowly at the air.

"Because electrical fires are kind of a serious problem and they can be handled much more safely here than out in the public trapped five floors between the ground and the roof," Shane answers. He frowns at the way it stops all three of the others. He's had ten hours to think of better reasons than _it'd make me feel better_ to argue with in between cleaning up broken singed glass and slapping a gauze pad on his shoulder.

"And also it'd make me feel better," he adds anyway because it's true. Also, because the Bradley's had a weird sense of ingrained debt wired to their brains that no amount of emotional manipulation has dislodged. Cam has gotten Hunter to do a lot of things that Hunter really, truly _did not want to do_ solely because of that.

Shane had once gotten Blake to admit that finger puppets scared – sorry, _unnerved_ – him because of that. Learning moments. He was getting good at this.

"We can't just _move in_ to Ninja Ops," Hunter gripes.

"You have rooms," Cam interrupts, still hovering in the doorway instead of crossing the threshold. Shane checks him, but doesn't see any sign of worn posture or tired eyes. The guy actually slept.

Huh.

"What do you mean we have _rooms_?"

"Place to sleep, place to stay," Shane answers, attention dragging from Cam to Hunter. "Cyber Cam means you don't have to sleep with one eye open."

"We haven't started any fires," Blake huffs.

"Yet," Cam mutters. It's not the right thing to say, but Shane settles back a bit anyway and glances back toward him. "I made them shortly after I figured out where you two were living," he continues, which is _also_ not the right thing to say. "They were already there, just rearranged to be acceptable to live in instead of storage." He pauses while Hunter and Blake bristle before inclining his head. "And I insist in making the offer, though you're by no means required to accept it."

"Why not make it before now?" Hunter demands. Defensive in the face of generosity – as if any of them have ever had the luxury of considering Hunter or Blake a charity case. Please. Shane has _never_ been that delusional.

"You'd have considered it a prison," Cam answers.

"Either way," Blake says slowly into the uncomfortable silence that causes. "I think we'll pass bro. Thanks."

* * *

_~'~,~'~_

* * *

"A prison?" Shane asks later, when the Bradley's are gone and the offer is left a standing _thing_ that makes them visibly uncomfortable.

"They didn't deny it," Cam replies instead of dancing around the issue like Shane sort of thought he would. He should really start giving Cam more credit on the social front.

"Why didn't they?" Shane asks, falling into a seat next to him and frowning at the mess of schematics on the monitor. All of it's over his head – probably why this is Dustin's chair.

"You didn't notice?" Cam asks. Shane doesn't answer and gets his clue when Cam pulls up various security feeds. It's a little startling watching the various camera angles come up – most of which he hadn't known were there. Looking up at the far corner of the room is a reflex.

"It's a little creepy," he grumbles defensively, eying a floor vent uneasily next when Cam snorts at him. It's not why Cam had pulled the feeds up though, so Shane forces his eyes back to the screens instead of the cameras that have happily been recording him since forever in places he hadn't even thought about and watches a very large number of very short clips of the Bradley's in various assortments walking through Ops or interacting with the team.

It takes a little while.

To be fair, their reasons for coming to Ops wasn't as varied as it could have been back then. More often than not they were there as a team. He doesn't really get a clue until Cam pulls up the outside cameras.

"They've seriously never come in here on their own?"

"Since that first time?" Cam asks, shaking his head. "They don't pass the threshold without knowing one of you are already here. If they're left in a room they stay in that room unless they're called to a different one."

"It's never been an issue because we don't branch out from the main rooms that often," Shane realizes. He doesn't wander around the place often either but he's never felt like he _couldn't_. Sure, he might get harassed by Cam eventually, but the place never really made him uneasy.

He certainly never waited ten minutes outside to be escorted in.

_These guys…._

"You people are _determined_ to give me a complex," he grumbles, overriding Cam's briefly offended look with a terse, "So what changed?"

"Blake was put down for thirteen hours, and Hunter stopped caring about invisible boundaries or showing a weakness. If he can give Cyber Cam orders without caring whether or not it'd get back to me, he can tell me _no_ without feeling like he's committing an offense against me. I wanted to be absolutely sure before I offered."

"Hunter has never struck me as the kind of guy that would say yes to something he wasn't absolutely sure about," Shane points out doubtfully.

"You're going to make me spell it out?" Cam asks with distaste.

"Consider it building character," Shane answers, unsympathetic.

"Think about when they agreed to join us. After working with Lothor under their own power, and then having their free will stripped away and working for him anyway, do you remember what Hunter said?"

"Do you?" Shane asks incredulously.

"'You guys are the only thing standing between Lothor and millions of innocent people,'" Dustin answers from the doorway. Tori's right there next to him, but Dustin is curled in on himself a bit. He shrugs a little at the identical stares he gets.

"It felt weird hearing it. Like they weren't gonna stick with us even though it made the most sense. It was like he thought they'd never be something between Lothor and what Lothor wanted. From a guy who always kept his eyes on the finish line and had the kind of skill he did it was just – weird. Giving up before he started. It stuck with me."

"I think we can all agree Lothor's ship was a prison, whether they knew it at the time or not," Tori adds quietly. They've been there from the beginning then. Darn. "But us?"

"Why not?" Cam snipes, frowning hard at the screens instead of anyone else. "We had the means to stop them. We knew who they were. We knew _what_ they were."

_You can stop with the threats._

"But that can't be it," Dustin argues, crossing his arms defensively. "There's no way they were afraid of being exposed, we'd have been exposed right back."

_But you earned my trust._

"Well they can't be afraid of saying no, either, I mean Hunter and Shane argue all of the time. Hunter and _Cam_ argue all the time," Tori points out, frustration edging in her tone. "We're still friends, it's not like they don't know that."

_Do you know who I am?_

_Yeah. You're my friends._

"They know," Shane says quietly, smiling a little at the poorly masked worry in Tori's eyes and the very visible unease in Dustin's. "They know we trust them, and they know we have their backs, guys."

"But why would they call Ops a _prison_?" Dustin blurts out – which wasn't exactly fair because they _hadn't,_ but Shane taps the desk with his nail before Cam can say so.

_We don't deserve your trust. We probably never will. If you and Cam are the only ones who never forget that I'm ready to accept that._

"I think," Shane says slowly, feeling around the concept even as he explains it. "They're trying to protect us. From themselves."

"Most of the reason I didn't extend the offer when it would have been reasonable was because I felt they would have said yes for the wrong reasons," Cam admits. "The way they acted, they would have felt like it was the best way for me to keep an eye on them, and I doubt they would have ever been able to relax or move freely."

"And now?" Dustin demands impatiently.

"Now, they said no for the same reasons they would have said yes," Shane answers. "Except. Better."

"Want to run that one by me again?" Tori asks, eyebrows lifted.

"If they would have said yes before because it seemed to make Cam feel safe and the rest of us breathe easier knowing their every move, than they're saying no now because they think Cam feels safer with them further away. Probably, they think we'll feel better they're not living with Sensei."

_I'm nothing but a threat to him_.

"That's a little messed up," Dustin says sadly.

"It's… Blake and Hunter," Shane sighs. It's as much an agreement as it is a defense, really.

"So how do we change it?" Dustin asks, attention flitting to all of them.

"I might have one idea," Tori answers, crossing her arms slowly. "But… we're all going to have to do it together. And it'll take time."

"Well let's hear it." Cam sighs, "Because I don't know about you guys but I'm tired of standing on ceremony. The academies are gone, if we're all that's left we should use that to our advantage."

"I never understood that kind of stuff anyway," Dustin adds sheepishly. "We're a team," he tacks on fiercely. "Heck, we're more than that. We shouldn't be holding back from each other."

"We've invested this much," Shane decides, eyes narrowing a bit. "And I, for one, am sick of sitting around and worrying about what new assumptions Hunter and Blake are going to make about me next."

"Okay," Tori grins, "let's start with what we know…."

* * *

_~'~,~'~_

* * *

Weeks pass, and even though it takes a while, it's not exactly _hard_ to understand what's happening.

"I don't think they're taking rejection well," Blake tells him thoughtfully. Hunter resists the urge to smack him, pinching the bridge of his nose instead and sighing slowly.

To be fair, he isn't sure what else he was expecting after telling the two most stubborn people on the planet _no_ and walking away. Why do they think _he's_ the difficult one again?

"You want to move into 'Ops?" Hunter groans, peering up at Blake.

"You think we're going to keep getting a choice?" Blake asks back with a grin. He's entirely too peppy for Hunter's liking. A lifetime of ingrained conditioning has lead him to be wary of a pep-filled Blake Bradley. No good things would come of that.

"I think if there's one thing that they'll never do, it's take choice from us. Even if they're going to be _stupid_ about the rest of it," Hunter tells him flatly. Blake snickers softly, stretches slowly and then flips over to his hands to do a handstand. It's as much to release energy as it is to show off, the punk.

"I'm mostly surprised that all our stuff is still in our apartment," he admits. "Sort of figured that it'd be moved by now."

"I dunno," Hunter muses, propping his chin on an upraised fist as he contemplates pushing Blake just to make him fall in an ungraceful heap. The look Blake levels his way is exactly the kind of discouraging that makes Hunter want to do it more. "I lost my backpack for two days."

"Nice try, you left it at the tracks," Blake snorts, slowly bracing both hands on the floor and pushing up to his fingers. He rolls to lie flat on the floor himself between their low table and the couch before Hunter can shove him, scowling a little at the ceiling. "I told you that's what you'd done."

"It still magically ended up at Ops," Hunter points out, dropping his feet onto Blake's stomach and settling back in his chair. "Dustin could have brought it to Storm Chargers if he didn't know where we lived."

"They know where we live." Blake counters. "Real question is, are you going to get into a contest trying to live with Sensei's son?"

"I don't get into a contest with _every person_ that happens to share blood with a mentor," Hunter huffs defensively.

"…You literally took a vow of silent protest instead of apologizing to-"

"That was a _very specific_ and _temporary_ situation," Hunter snaps. Blake takes the time to sit up slowly, moving back up to the couch just so he can stare directly into Hunter's eyes and judge him.

"You barely talked for a month and a half."

"I was eight and offended."

"You were twelve," Blake corrects.

"Nine."

"Ten."

" _Nine_ ," Hunter stresses, shoving all thoughts of Leanne Omino from his mind. "And that has nothing to do with moving into Ninja Ops."

"Pretty sure my point was that Cam is trying harder than you," Blake hums.

_"Aw…_ "

Blake grins, quick and fleeting, and Hunter stubbornly ignores it. Continues on with this entire farce by delivering the other a bland, unimpressed look.

"I have been touched more times in the past two weeks than I have in the past two _months_ ," Hunter sighs. "It's creepy."

_"It's domestication."_

"It's called being social," Blake coughs; Hunter resists the urge to glare at the window.

It's also true, though, he hadn't gone a single day without Tori knocking shoulders with him or Dustin bouncing into his space or Shane's arm over his shoulders or Cam – Cam! Who should be immune to this nonsense! – tapping at his hands or shifting just a few inches closer whenever Hunter either accidentally or deliberately gets into his space instead of glaring or snapping mean things at him.

Training has even been weirdly intense, for all that words still fly more often than taunts or fists, he's had to focus more than he's used to. Even facing Dustin is an exercise in multi-tasking. He's learned to understand that the Winds can be competent when they settle down and focus, but until recently they've never put that competency on blast.

It was frustrating because Hunter's twisted mind could see what they were doing. He couldn't even say they were acting or changing themselves, because they were all the same exact bunch of crazy they've always been. It was the kind of plan that was painfully simple.

Only Shane and Tori's natural empathy could combine with their knack for strategy and manipulating team dynamics. Only Dustin's natural exuberance could translate what would be downright annoying into something innocent and welcoming. And only Cam's meticulous eye for detail could curb them all from pushing too far or too fast.

Ninja Storm's Winds _would_ show their intrinsic trust in the Thunders by turning up the friendship displays whilst proving they could hold their own in a fight. It was exactly the kind of thing Hunter found reassuring, that he couldn't hurt them seriously if something bad happened again.

And really, he had to have lost his mind right alongside Blake because Shane indulging his paranoia felt more gratifying than condescending.

And it _was_ Shane. Tori would have used her words like a well-adjusted adult or something and Cam would have used actions because it was more expedient and Dustin didn't think like this.

"This would be easier if I still hated them," Hunter groused.

"They do grow on you," Blake muses.

"Like a fungus," Hunter deadpans, smirking at the little offended sound that comes from the corner. "And don't think I haven't noticed that you've been on the Join Ops train since day _two_ you stoat."

"Hurtful," Blake sniffs. "You weren't ambushed."

_"Ambush?"_

_"I thought we agreed no ambushing! Wait, what's a stoat? Like from drinks?"_

_"That's a spout. A stoat is a type of weasel."_

_"Wily_ _**and** _ _cute."_

My God, they're bad at this.

"Wait, you mean they used their words at you?" Hunter demands. Blake gives him a pitying look that doesn't nothing to hide the blush gradually appearing on his face. Adorable.

"This is going to be hard to hear, Hunter," Blake says in his most diplomatic voice. "But you're not exactly the most adept at words with friends."

"But mostly," Shane interrupts like a normal person from his perch before Hunter can spit out any of the _numerous_ things that are battling for front place in his head. "I didn't want to get punched again."

"The fire escape is not an appropriate place to loiter," Hunter snipes, glaring at the air ninja half crouched and steadily working the window open.

"What about behind the couch?" Dustin asks, head popping up from the back of it alarmingly close to his face and blinking owlishly at him. Tori slides by Shane to hop up next to Blake on the arm of his chair, dropping her arm around his shoulders and there's a very distinct click of the lock before Cam is walking in through the front door like he was invited and striding behind Hunter's spot, helping Dustin to his feet.

"You'd better not have broken that," Hunter warns, ignoring the way the couch cushions dip with added weight.

"I'm sure it's fine," Cam tells them both – or maybe just Dustin, hard to tell.

"You could just make it not your problem," Shane says next to him.

"By moving into Ninja Ops," Tori clarifies, knocking her shoulder against Blake's.

"That sounds very adult of you," Hunter replies.

"It's not the most unreasonable thing to happen today." Shane snorts, and Hunter doesn't even think about the way he leans in for Shane's arm to settle across his shoulders. By now it's a constant occurrence, reassuring in its familiarity.

"No," Hunter agrees. "Pretty sure that award goes to you lunatics breaking into our apartment."

"Yeah-okay, but it's not like this is the first time," Dustin points out, trekking happily around with Cam beside him. How thoughtful. Hunter had sort of been braced to abruptly receive a lapful of tumbling yellow ranger. "Your fridge is seriously way too empty, by the way."

"I was right," Blake realizes numbly, blinking a few times into the slightly nervous quiet Dustin's lack of diplomacy created. "They've been _feeding_ us."

It had almost been an argument near the end of week one, Dustin had undergone a 'baking spree' at home and suddenly there were croissants and muffins and cookies and all sorts of pastries mostly being shoved at Hunter before he could refuse. Shortly after that there had been a steady habit of communal meals – usually breakfast, sometimes light lunches – at Ops that ranged from them all sitting around the kitchen areas to floating through and snatching fruit (or, slightly more often, throwing fruit at each other) until everyone had something in hand.

Well-meaning, Hunter can tell. But also, the kind of thing that's making his shoulder blades itch.

"We're not-"

"Burdens," Shane interrupts, and this close Hunter can feel the tension in his arm before Shane squeezes him closer and then lets him go. He frowns, looks at the skater and sees his own expression mirrored back. Uneasy, but determined to get his point across. "Or charity or any other condescending thing you've had to put up with. If we don't look out for each other how are we supposed to manage looking out for the world?"

It was a good question.

"Isn't that what we've been doing?" Blake asks quietly. It's a tone he's familiar with, though he hasn't actually heard Blake _sound_ unsure in a long time. When Hunter looks Blake's eyes are on his hands, clasped loosely together and staring at the floor.

"It's what you've been doing," Cam answers, surprisingly gentle and infinitely more patient than Hunter had expected. He eyes the samurai ranger uneasily, but Cam is kneeling calmly next to Dustin, the pair of them taking up a spot on the floor. "You've accommodated us plenty."

"It's way past time we started giving you the same," Dustin continues, earnest and worried in his own way. Looking at Dustin is always kind of hard, but this time it's downright painful – there's a weirdly heavy amount of guilt there, unease, worry, _hope_ , and probably worst of all there's understanding. Like he gets that they are what they are, like he gets why Blake had to ask at all, because when you act a way long enough… well, it's easy to lose thread of what's real.

And they had been trying, some ways a bit more deliberate than others. It wasn't fair to make Blake doubt that.

But well, he'd never felt _threatened_ by any of them, either. And it would be just as unfair to make them assume he had.

"Think maybe you guys aren't giving yourselves enough credit," Hunter counters slowly, taking the time to smile at Dustin. The guy deserved all the reassurance he could spare. He looks down then, studying his arms, and even though the henna and the scars are gone for now, he can trace all of the patterns that had been there before. "All this because we wouldn't move into Ninja Ops?"

"All this because it's what you deserve," Tori says, cutting through the bullshit. "And because if anyone's going to prove that, it should be us."

And – damn if that didn't make him feel twenty different kinds of warm and uncomfortable.

"I think you already have," Blake says quietly, just as uncomfortable as Hunter felt but when he looks Blake's smiling. Small and slow and real. It had been a long time since they'd let themselves look beyond each other. He was just as unused to this as Hunter was. "I know… it sounds kind of… thanks," Blake sighs, rubbing the back of his head until Tori catches his fingers with hers, tangling them together.

"I was right, you know," she says just as quietly, and just as clearly only for him. "The best book."

Blake gives her a startled look and then leans into her, unreserved and sweet. Hunter couldn't have looked away if he tried.

"It's not a terrible read, but I think we're still writing it," he says back, and the bright grin she gives is – that's something. He can already feel himself storing that image away too like the complete sap he refuses to be.

"Whether you move or not," Shane says, "we won't stop." He holds his hand up, a half-smile on his face even as he eyes Hunter's hands. "You can punch me to make yourself feel better if you want," he snorts, lifting his gaze from Hunter's hands to his face, and it shouldn't be a surprise at all that he looks like he's ready for a fight. Shane's every bit as stubborn, determined, and generous as he's always been. "But we're friends, man. Right?"

He holds his hand out, and Hunter eyes the red-white-black bracelet still hanging off his wrist for a long moment. Shane hasn't changed at all, but it feels like Hunter has. Opposite him, Blake shifts, and Hunter glances over and recognizes the nervous twitch of his fingers, the flick of his gaze between Shane and himself.

And wasn't that familiar? There was a time, years and years ago, where Blake had been the uneasy one. Quiet, unsure, mistrustful of himself or what his heart wanted.

Hunter had worked hard to teach that Blake how to smile, how to tease and what trust could look like. Somewhere along the way, Blake had turned those lessons into something else and Hunter had given up – on trying, on _caring_ about anything at all, because he couldn't stand hitting his limit again. On losing again.

With this group, though….

"Nah, bro," Hunter says, dragging his eyes back to Shane and clasping his hand tightly, smiling a little himself. "We're family."

And hey, crazy days, maybe they'd remember how that went after all.


End file.
